


Prota Eksileosi

by FrostedGemstones22



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Atonement of Sins, Clarke Doesn't Leave, F/M, Hades/Persephone AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-09
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-03-22 01:07:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 49,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3709317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrostedGemstones22/pseuds/FrostedGemstones22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I think you're forgetting one important detail that everyone knows about Hades, Princess."<br/>"What?" Clarke seemed confused, and Bellamy feels obligated to tell her, despite the argument sure to follow.<br/>"Persephone. Hades...he always has his own princess with him."<br/>Clarke shot him a disbelieving look, "And somehow, that's me?"<br/>Bellamy gave a low chuckle, "I'm not the one who said it, Clarke." </p><p> </p><p>After the fallout of killing everyone in Mount Weather, Bellamy and Clarke realize that the blood on their ledger is greater than imagined, and even together, closure and forgiveness seems hard to see in the future. But, after Bellamy inadvertently offers himself up to become the new 'Hades' or Lord of the Underworld- a job unoccupied since the nuclear war on earth- he begins to see familiar faces that is now his problem on finding a way across the to paradise. When Bellamy realizes he's begun to fall into the shoes of a favorite mythical god, he starts to put together the one thing that's missing from his own version of the myth; a Persephone, and Clark has an awful lot of things to work out in the underworld too. 'Modern' Persephone/Hades.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So awhile ago I was talking about the fanfics I write to a friend, trying to get her to read some and maybe read a review and she goes, 'You know, I used to read that stuff a lot, but I don't really anymore. Oh! But you should write a Bellarke one! Yes, do that, I'll read that!" And I told her I probably wouldn't because there's already such a community of them here of people who have stood out that it's a little intimidating and also because I hate when people tell me because I'm a writer I HAVE to write this or that. Not that I wasn't going to be open to writing one if brilliance struck me with these two, and it did...at 12:00 midnight when I was doing a paper due tomorrow.
> 
> But I wrote it anyway, because I'm so excited.

To Bellamy, books and stories were just simply magic in a form most didn't understand. But he never minded that as a child, because in a world where things he could label as strictly his was yanked away with the birth of an illegal sister, he liked having something just his. Not that he hadn't tried to tell Octavia about her namesake and all the other things, but she never seemed as enthralled as he did.

When he was a child, it was just stories from his mother. He suspected it wasn't to make her child smarter or worldlier than the others, but it was much easier to spin a tale that she didn't have to make-up herself to sooth a nervous two-year-old. His mother was never creative, despite her skills as a seamstress, and it wasn't until he was old enough to read that she revealed those wonderful tales of Achilles, Zeus, and Hercules didn't spring from her mind fully formed (Like Athena came from Zeus' head) but instead from well-worn books she kept carefully up on a shelf.

It might have ruined it for some children, the illusion of storytelling broken, but to Bellamy, he was elated. He didn't have to wait for his mother to be in a good mood to re-tell how Odyssey's wife tricked him into admitting it was he who appeared to her, but instead could read it himself. He could tell his mother was a bit relieved.

The older Bellamy got, the more he was grateful his grandfather before passing had been a curator and collector of these books on his time on the Ark, or Bellamy may have never heard of them, for few knew the stories as it were. To know such tales weren't pertinent to learning, and most terms and places were as fantastical to people as Middle Earth in the Lord of the Rings book he had too. It was hard to imagine that Rome ever actually existed when they floated above it, miles and miles away.

It was awful to imagine that he would have been deprived his whole life of a passion-history and the classical myth. He prided himself that he even learned the basics of Greek and Latin, self-taught of course. For it was clear he would have never been able to allow such luxuries to enter his house, not when every combined dime of his and his mothers went to extra things to keep Octavia at least pacified. There had even been one heated discussion when he was thirteen when his mother attempted to pawn off the last known copy of Ovid's Metamorphosis because Octavia was sick and needed medicine from the black-market. It was a measly cold anyway, or else Bellamy might not have been so vocal about his anger.

"I have nothing that's mine, except these. I never asked for the other things kids have, but mom, please. These are mine. Don't you understand? They're mine."

Bellamy hadn't meant to cry then, because thirteen-year-old boys didn't cry. Yet he couldn't help it. It wasn't so much loosing the book itself, for he knew every tale by heart, but it was the thought that she had been ready to do it, give away another reminder of her father, with so little thought of how Bellamy might react, or even ask him? Maybe, if she'd asked, he mused, he might have even said yes.

But whatever he said must have struck a chord, for she never tried to sell them again. In fact, he was sure she never touched them either, not until a day before she was floated, looking over an old Roman encyclopedia with pages missing, turned to the page labeled 'Octavia'. Bellamy couldn't bear to touch that book for a long time after that.

Out of all the myths and stories he accumulated, his favorite by far was the stories of Persephone and Hades. By all means, those two shouldn't have worked. They were incompatible to the untrained eye. But there was meekness in Hades and fierceness in Persephone, the roles so radically reversed, that made it work. There were notes and a picture about some old animation that had portrayed Hades as a blue-flamed bad-guy, and Bellamy didn't care for that picture.

When he'd told his sister about it, expecting her to react with excitement like he had, she curled her nose and made a comment about how Hades seemed like a jerk and maybe the animation was right. Bellamy felt betrayed; he never had seen Hades as a villain. Just because someone worked with death didn't make him bad, nor because he maybe loved someone a little too much (and by all means, there were times it seemed Persephone loved him back), was that really a crime?

His love of the Hades myths turned him onto many times of deep thoughts about death. It wasn't a foreign idea to him. Even before his mother was floated, she'd always told him that his father was too, when he was younger. Or well, he'd died, and he'd been floated as a dead body because that's what happened. There was no room for literal dead weights upon the ark, not even ashes someone could keep in their room. It was unpractical, which a logical guy like Bellamy understood.

It still disturbed him, the whole parade of it. There were hardly enough room for shrines of the deceased, and it seemed as apart from stand-alone leaders, most people only recalled the dead within them, whatever form it might take. Some suffered silently, seemingly all right but then would break when they smelled their mother's favorite kind of food or saw someone wearing their deceased father's brown shoes. Some were in agony for days, and let everyone know. Some were in (cough, theatrical) agony for years and let everyone know. Some seemed, miraculously, unaffected and Bellamy always kept an eye on those. Someone who wasn't even effect by death in either way, good or bad wasn't someone Bellamy thought e should trust.

He was always told that they were sending their people back to where they belonged, but it felt more like an exile, a harsh sending off to the Underworld with no guide. No money to pay Chiron on the boat ride over left wondering on one side of the bank why they'd been forsaken by their family and friends, sent to a world equally dangerous and confusing, even still in death. That's what Bellamy disliked about it.

And he'd learned too from an early age, and even though the wiser he got the more he realized that perhaps his father wasn't exactly dead but had no wish to be around them, that no matter how good a kid was- that Bellamy went to class everyday, never cheated, always did his homework and helped his mom with chores, gave all his extra earnings to her to protect Octavia even though sometimes he really wanted an ice-cream cone from the main hall, and rarely ever spoke back even as a surly teen- it couldn't, by force of will and someone deserving of it- bring someone back from the dead. Not a father who was actually dead or a dead-beat deserter who might as well been.

And when his mother was floated, Zeus it hurt, but Bellamy stood and shook his head, biting his lip. Octavia wasn't even allowed to be there. The last time she saw her mother was before the party. Everything hurt, but death was as common as life.

That was something Bellamy reminded himself about on earth. After the death of kids on his watch, after the war with the Grounders, when he'd been selfish and all those on the ark had sacrificed for seemingly nothing, after everyone was killed on Mount Weather. It was all part of life. But it still didn't help him sleep at night. In his own tent, as everyone else lay sleeping soundly and for the first time in their life relaxed and eased, Bellamy stared at the holes that peeked out to the sky, not for the first time wishing he could go back to his room on the Ark where he hadn't caused anyone to die and no one blamed him. He would lay awake for hours, his mind reeling like a broken projector through all the deaths he'd caused. Zeus almighty, he'd killed children in there. Not even Clark, he'd pulled it too, he hadn't stopped it. What if this wasn't just them surviving anymore, but who they were? What if this couldn't be forgiven, not by himself or any other great force in the universe?

He never even thought of the possibility that across Camp Jaha, where Clarke laid next to her mother who slept soundly, she too was wondering the same things.


	2. Chapter 2

In the morning, Clarke rolled off her cot in the ship, wiping her eyes. Three hours of sleep, more than usual. She was tired, but not enough to go to sleep, just as she was awake, but not awake enough to feel any sort of will to do much at all. But her mother was getting dressed, and the camp was already buzzing and Clarke couldn't stay in here forever.

She went without breakfast (there were those who needed it more) and went to the makeshift tent that Wick and Raven occupied. On her way there, she felt eyes upon her, that when she turned suddenly had more interesting things to look at. It was becoming frustrating, the ways of which people saw her. Some still saw her like she was some great goddess, some saw her with pity, and some…Clarke swallowed thickly.

Maybe I deserve it.

Even still a month after leaving Mount Weather, there were multiple people still recovering, physically and mentally. Clarke's best friend perhaps had seen some of the worst of it; her leg wound from Murphy hadn't fully healed in the first place, and the explosion and weariness that plagued her after didn't help once she was captured. Clarke made a point to see her every morning, even though Raven insisted by this point she was fine.

But Clarke knew her well enough to be able to tell she was lying.

"Girl, you look like shit." Raven said, frowning as Clarke came in.

"Hello to you too, Raven. How are you this morning?" Clarke asked, and Raven rolled her eyes as she swung her wounded leg over to Clarke for inspection.

"Fine. Just like yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that. It's you that is seemingly not fine." She said.

"The rain kept me up last night." Clarke lied. Raven raised a dark eyebrow.

"It didn't rain last night." She said, narrowed eyes.

"You slept through it, I'm sure." Clarke shrugged, "Where's Wick?" She questioned, looking around. Usually the mechanic was right on her the girl's side, and that made Clarke happy. Happy that she seemed at peace with Finn, because that had been such a tense topic. Wick was also a nice guy, and Clarke recalled him from back on the Ark. He'd been younger then, a little more gangly and awkward but overwhelmingly brilliant. Almost as smart as Raven, but Clarke was almost sure no one could ever usurp her. If they did, Raven would likely kill them, or at least break something.

"Shower. Finally convinced him I couldn't stand being around a guy that smelled like a cave man. " Raven chuckled as she latched her brace, "All right, Dr. Clarke?" Raven teased.

"Yes of course. You know I would just hate-," Clarke began and Raven sighed, holding up her hand.

"I know, I know. For me to pull something or some foreign disease or something to get into me. But I think my chances are good, by now. I mean, the world deserves to cut me some slack." Raven said.

Clarke smiled ruefully, and was about to say something when the flap of the tent pulled upward, streaming bright sun to the shaded area.

"Hey, Raven! You'll never guess what-," Jasper began to say, adjusting his glasses up on his forehead, happier than Clarke has seen him in a long time. Yet, as soon as he saw Clarke, his whole face darkened and he turned without a word, only pausing to send a heartbroken look of betrayal to her.

"He's still upset about that?" Raven recoiled back, "Clarke, if you want me to go knock some sense and respect into him I swear I'll do it." Raven said.

"No," Clarke waved her hand faintly, sighing and sitting on the bed next to her, "It's fine. Let him grieve in what he needs to." She assured.

"It's been a month. We all know what went down. I hate how he keeps seeing you and Bellamy as the bad guys." Raven shook her head.

"Perhaps…" Clarke licked her lips, "Perhaps it's the price I had to pay for what I did. Have a couple kids hate me, okay, fine. I can live with that." She murmured.

"Don't lie to me, I know it bothers you." Raven hesitated a moment, then patted Clarke's shoulder.

"It's not me I'm upset for. Bellamy and I pulled the level. Just us, no one else. But Monty, he still wont' even acknowledge him. It wasn't his fault, and I know it's killing Monty. It just makes him feel guilty, and guilt travels. Makes people question." Clarke twirled a loose thread around her fingers.

"If anyone thinks that what you did was out of malice, out of some fucked-up agenda of sociopaths, they're crazy." Raven assured.

"There were children, Raven." Clarke ran a dirty hand up her face to lock in her blonde curls, "Kids."

"And you accepted that, you faced it. You and Bellamy buried all of them. Went back to that godforsaken place when no one else would. You're still here too, facing this, dealing with it." Raven said, and for a second, Clarke was almost sure she knew, "That's something."

Clarke didn't speak. After the first coming back, she'd tried to leave. Abandon everyone. She thought it would be easier if she didn't have to see the faces, let the guilt build up in her so that Bellamy didn't have to feel it, so that Raven and Monty and Jasper didn't have to feel it. But Bellamy stopped her, and she was still her. It didn't mean there weren't multiple times she wished she'd been a coward and left. Seeing Jasper's crestfallen face whenever she was around…Clarke could deal with many things in her life- severed wounds, profuse bleeding, leading people- but leaving people with the feeling she'd let them down was weighing heavily on her shoulders.

"I'm supposed to be checking on your sanity." Clarke laughed, wiping the corners of her eye with the back of her hand, "Not rambling about my own."

"Girl, you know, we all have problems. Even mighty leaders." Raven said, punching her lightly, "It's…well…you know. I'm always here to talk."

"Clarke?" Both girls rose their heads as a second person entered the tent, "Oh, there you are. There's a meeting starting."

"Thanks, Miller." Clarke got up, shaking off the cold that seeped into the tent, smiling at Raven one last time, "Don't do anything stupid with that leg."

"What am I going to do?" Raven scoffed, "Go off and try to climb trees or dive off cliffs?"

Clarke rolled her eyes, but followed Miller. Around camp, fires were being lit and cautiously tended to as the weather brought in the chill of fall. No leaves had started turning red, but Lincoln said it was quite a spectacle, something that everyone was excited to see. Yet the coming cold brought problems, exactly what the meeting today was about. As Clarke slipped into the meeting tent, she saw that everyone was waiting for her. Bright crimson stained her cheeks as she gave a short apology, before sitting down between Octavia and Bellamy, as Miller took the other side of the Blake brother.

The council that had been roughly established, after much fighting and arguing about the definition of 'children' vs. 'adults' included Abbey, Kane, Both Millers (father and son), Sinclair, The Blake siblings, Clarke, and Lincoln. The former Grounder had caused the most arguments, but he was the wisest on earth living, seeing as he'd had his whole life here, while even the delinquents had only a couple months. He was more of a silent type, used as a reference to questions.

After all Clarke had done and after Octavia had judged her so harshly, Clarke was terrified the girl who she'd found a friend in would never forgive her. But time soothed her angry feelings, and soon she came to, at the very least, understand what Clarke did and why. She made it very clear that she didn't agree or would not have done such things if it was her making a choice, but in the end, she trusted Clarke with her brother as their leaders to know best.

Clarke was grateful for the reconciliation, and it was her prodding to put Octavia on the counsel. Bellamy had handpicked Miller as his lieutenant, so why couldn't Clarke have her own as well? Clarke was proud of what she'd said and done as a authority figure thus so far, shocking the adults with her mature approach on more than one occasion.

Clarke yawned as the meeting began, blinking away tiredness. Octavia sent her a concerned look, but Clarke shook her head in a gentle dismissal, turning to her mother.

"I think we all know that winter is coming soon, something we're, at the moment, ill-equipped to deal with." Kane was beginning, and Clarke nodded in agreement at his words. Their biggest problems were food and shelter. The piece of the Ark that had come down hardly fit sleeping room for those it carried to begin with, not to add 50 more wounded children. At the moment, everyone had made crude shelters of sticks and bits of tent and that was fine…for now. But as Clarke watched a leaf float to the ground in front of the tent where they sat, she knew it was a warning of something colder and worse coming. Lincoln had already informed her that on good winters, only a few were lost. On bad ones…

Clarke shuddered. They'd lost so much already; it would kill her to lose more.

"Can we re-locate?" Bellamy asked, and Clarke forced herself back to focus, "Lincoln has spoken on length of a clan near the water that might allow us to join and share in their resources of shelter and food." He said. All eyes turned toward Lincoln, and he frowned.

"That was when there were not so many. Even well seasoned tribes still have problems with cold weather. Besides, it can be unpredictable. If we were to leave even today, I don't know if we'd get there before the snowfall. The air can kill even without snow, if it's cold enough." He said, and Clarke saw everyone's hopes drop a bit.

She wanted to admit she was secretly glad; if she had to stay here, she wanted it to be with her people. Not some new grounders where she might have to learn new customs and forge new alliances.

"Well, fine, then." Bellamy seemed unconcerned at his first options being dismissed, continuing, "There's caves in this area around the mountain. Not in Mount Weather," He added hastily, seeing the expressions on peoples faces turn sour, "But we could find a large cave and stay there during the winter. It might be easier than building houses."

"But we don't want to be migrant our whole lives, do we?" Clarke asked, speaking up, "I think, and maybe I'm the only one, but one day we might want to stay in a place that's ours. Not move into a cave every winter."

"It's not a bad idea, though, Clarke." Kane frowned, "At least for now. As Lincoln as pointed out, we have a very tedious window of time. Not enough to build weather-resistant housing for everyone. Perhaps we find a cave or shelter to stay in this winter, then divert our energy after the snow melts to building more permeate buildings."

There was a murmur of agreement within the group, and even Octavia seemed to be nodding silently. Only Miller looked concerned, and he shot a look with Clarke she understood. Any cave, may it be Mount Weather or not, disturbed him. It might be too much for people like Harper to handle, Clarke thought silently, but then to seriously consider the option of staying behind. In a cave, they might be able to find a water source- an underground river. They would all be together, instead of splitting the group up again, which is the last thing Clarke wanted.

"Do you know of any caves that could hold us all?" Octavia turned excitedly to Lincoln but he gave an uncomfortable roll of his shoulders.

"We didn't frequent caves much. The reapers…until recently, we didn't know what their habits and such were."

"But you know where caves are." Octavia pressured, "You hid me in a cave."

"A very small cave." Lincoln reminded her with a hint of sharpness, then sighed, seeing everyone's expectant faces, "I can take you around to some places. Our tribe has no use for caves anyway, they wouldn't bother us." He added. Octavia clapped her hands, grinning ear to ear.

"I can't help to look." Abbey said, glancing at her daughter from Kane, "But I think while a group goes out to look, another should be considering what we'll do if we don't find one."

"Well, obviously Lincoln goes." Bellmay said, standing, "Octavia will go anyway, I'll go to make sure she still doesn't do something stupid-,"

"Hey! What am I? Six?" She grumbled in protest, but Bellamy ignored her, glancing to Clarke with a small grin, "And Clarke should go as our fourth and final because having a doctor is always helpful." Clarke let a small smile escape her lips; she'd have gone regardless, but she was glad Bellamy threw in a reason.

As the meeting adjourned, Clarke pulled Miller aside, who seemed a little disappointed not to have been included on the adventure.

"Hey, I want you to do something while I'm gone." She said, and he glanced at her expectantly, "Find out the reactions of the kids to living in a cave or mountain setting, even for a couple months. If they think it will only trigger bad memories, we'll go to my mom and Kane when we come back and think of something else." She said, "We have to put the sanity of everyone first if we expect them to heal."

"Of course." Miller nodded slightly, "I wonder how Bellamy was so…causal. I mean, he was tortured there too."

Clarke flinched inwardly, swallowing back a ball of bile and guilt that rose up her throat. She'd sent him there. She'd allowed him to be tortured.

"Everyone copes differently." She whispered, hoping he wouldn't see her shame as she turned to where the group to leave was gathering a couple packs to bring with them, spinning before he could comment.

As the group headed out into the breezy morning, Octavia glanced around.

"Does anyone recall any caves we found back around the drop ship?" She asked, although Clarke noted her voice had little hope.

"Well," Bellamy frowned, "I hid in one when the first acid fog hit with…" His breath hitched for a long moment, "With Charlotte." He murmured, shaking his head, as if trying to clear the memories from his mind, "But I don't think it's big enough to hold us. I mean, maybe twelve people, at most?"

"Are there any caves you know of, specifically as far away from Mount Weather as you can get?" Clarke asked, and Lincoln's jaw twitched. He was quiet.

"Yes." He said, "But we do not go there." The three other exchanged looks.

"Is it…dangerous?" Octavia tried cautiously, but Lincoln just sighed and motioned for them to follow.

"It's the only cave I can think of large enough for your needs. I suppose I'll let you decide." He said cryptically. Clarke scowled and Bellamy gnashed his teeth, watching as Octavia followed him without more questions.

"Do you remember," Clarke said suddenly, brushing through a bush, "When we first came? How new and wonderful it all looked?"

"Yeah, and then we ran into a two-headed mutant deer." Octavia scoffed.

"Back before all this death. Yeah." Bellamy said softly, so quietly no one heard, "I do remember."

Lincoln brought them far across the territory at a steady pace, only stopping once for rests. It didn't look like much at the entrance, but Clarke could tell Lincoln was agitated to be here. He kept glancing into the cave mouth nervously, and unconsciously took a few steps back.

Bellamy glanced inward, nodding with approval. "Looks promising," He said, and turned to see Lincoln farther still away, "What?" He demanded, "Why don't you guys come here?"

Lincoln shrugged, as if trying to play if off as a casual thing, but Clarke saw that something already spooked him. "We…there are stories about here. How the crows gather," He pointed up to a murder of crows sitting on the branches above him, "The smells of unholy death at night-time. People come down and don't come back up. No one has come here ever without a death wish. My people call it the Thanatos Ptosi."

There was a dry laugh from Bellamy in the back, and everyone turned- Clarke and Octavia with surprise, and Lincoln with a dull and pointed stare.

"Death Fall. Inviting." He said, deadpanned. There was a gurgle of shock in the back of Octavia's throat.

"Wait, you know Trigedasleng? Since when?" She said, and Bellamy withheld a look of confusion almost well enough to escape Clarke's notice.

"No…" He said slowly, "I know Greek. Must have been used before the fallout, or by someone who was a scholar or something. Either way, I think it's worth a look." He said, and clicked on a flashlight as he went into the mouth of the cave.

"Bellamy, you're going in there?" Clarke said, grabbing his arm.

"What?" He chuckled, "Superstitious, Princess?" He teased.

"Well, with a name like that!" Clarke sputtered, "Maybe there's a good reason it's called that. We can hardly see three feet in front of us, even with a light."

"Well, you can stay out here then." Bellamy said, brushing her fingers off his arm, "I'll go."

"I'm for sure checking this out too." Octavia said and Bellamy opened his mouth, she cut him off, "Save a lecture for another time, okay? If you're sure it's only stories, then you should have no problem with letting me come in." She said, flouncing past him a few feet in, "Are you guys coming?"

In the end, Bellamy went in because he said he was going to, Lincoln overcame his hesitations to make sure Octavia was fine, and Clarke followed after running a circle into the ground in frustration, just because she hated not knowing what was happening, or if someone was hurt.

She caught up to the group about 100 feet in.

"Is it just me, or is this place like major creep-ville?" Octavia said, recoiling as she passed her light over a pile of bones.

"Big enough. With some lanterns and bonfires, I think it will do. High ceilings, and I think I hear a river. Seems workable," He said, and turned to Lincoln with a glimmer of tease in his eyes, "Unless there's a big scary monster you haven't told us about."

"No monsters, not that I know of. But I still don't trust it." Lincoln said, and Clarke had never seen him as jumpy as this moment, for he practically jumped a foot in the air as a cockroach scurried over his foot. Even Octavia couldn't help but giggle at his behavior, followed with a gasping, 'Sorry, I get it. Not funny.'

It was all going pretty good and well, until Bellamy took a step forward and Clark watched in horror as his light slipped from his hand and he went tumbling down a sharp ledge.

"Bellamy!" Octavia cried, and tried to leap forward without thinking, but Lincoln held her back.

"Bellamy! Can you hear me?" Clarke cried, snatching up his light from the ground, shining to see the fall, but failing to see him, "Bellamy?"

There was a sound of groans on the bottom, and then a voice booming up from the darkness.

"I'm fine! Don't come after me. There's more tunnels, lighter ones. I think it's a way out. I'll come find you guys on the outside, don't worry." He said.

"Are you sure? We can get rope, we can-," Clarke began but was cut off.

"No, really. There's a breeze. Must be another entrance. I guess I know why they call it a 'Drop', eh Princess?"

"This is no time for jokes, Bellamy." Clarke snapped, upset that he'd just fallen and nearly died and he was so blasé about it.

"Killjoy…" She heard him mutter from the bottom, his voice echoing, and "Don't come follow me, you got it?" Everyone murmured his or her agreements. As Lincoln herded Clarke out of the cave rather swiftly, she couldn't help but look back.

"Think he'll be okay?" She questioned in a breath of air.

"If he's joking, he's probably fine. And I mean, seriously, everything's tried to kill him at this point. He'll survive this too." Octavia said with much more certainty than Clarke had, "He might even be on the outside now as we speak, c'mon."

In fact, Bellamy was as fine as someone could be for stumbling down a rocky ravine. A couple of scrapes that stung as he moved, but as far as he could tell, nothing broken. His head was aching a bit from where he'd hit it, and when he brought a finger away, he felt something warm and sticky come away too.

"Shit, my head." He murmured out loud. Reaching into his pack, he pulled out a piece of flint first, finding a stick and wrapping some cloth soaked in oil around it, lighting it on fire. Once there, he took out some clean cloth and pressed it firmly to his head. He hardly needed a fire, though, he told himself, because even now there was a welcoming glow of the sun beckoning him from just a couple feet away.

He got up, and did not expect to see more twisting caverns to await him. It was all pretty well lit, to the point the now lighted torch seemed unnecessary- although he could find no discernible light source. He got a shiver up his back, the feeling Lincoln had been so apt to avoid.

"Odd…" He murmured to himself, and he swiveled his head in calculation. The path only led one way, and he sure as hell wasn't finding his way out the way he came (and he hoped his sister and the others had left the cave too) so there was really once choice left. Onward.

He came across a couple streams, feeling confident that this place- with the right construction- might make a decent place for the winter. They'd have enough light to properly make the fall fit for people to travel up and down or use a pulley system to the water from, and board all other parts away so no one had an accidental fall like he did. Even just thinking about it made his slightly twisted ankle burn with pain.

The first river he came across, he had to admit, unnerved him a little bit. It was a tiny one, but from the way it dropped down into a twist of turns unknown to him, it came back up with the echoes that faintly sounded like people wailing in agony. He moved really quickly past that one.

The second one was warm to the touch, but not scalding, and Bellamy suspected a hot-spring near-by. Perhaps he should have people look for it once he got out, hot water for bathing even now would be a luxury that no one had in months. Down here- if people could get pas that first tiny river- this one wasn't moving all too swiftly and ran quietly, so it might be a nice spot to relax.

The third river he came across was almost still, and had Bellamy not accidently dropped a small piece of the bandage in, he wouldn't have even know there was a current. It was a tranquil place, with on the other side across form the path, a collection of trees that, against all odds, somehow had managed to survive and grow roots down here. Like us, Bellamy thought. In fact, the place was so calming that for a second Bellamy nearly forget he was trying to find a place out of here.

The fourth river was the widest one yet, but Bellamy did not like the looks of it. The water moved rapidly and dangerously, the roar as it went down into the darkness the only thing he could hear. The water was also muddy-colored, and carried a stench of decay, and Bellamy almost slid away from that river, the clay-path slippery and deceitful. He found himself for the second time that day flailing his legs and arms as he slid down a drop with no way to stop himself. He landed with a hard thud on his tailbone at the bottom, the angry roars of the water seemingly now farther away than he would though he'd gone.

This river, the fifth, was perhaps the most curious one yet. It was so wide that he first mistook it for an underground lake, but then he saw far across it and the river that moved-no glided- in almost a beautiful way, but a sad way too. Sad in a way that Bellamy couldn't describe how or why he felt this way, until he saw things floating there, catching upon the rocks on the banks.

He picked out a waterlogged doll, his fingers tracing over the seams, and looked down to see a cheap plastic necklace float past him. Now that he saw it, he saw the mementos of a life past just moving in endless circles in the water. Grimacing and feeling his chest tighten, he set the doll back. Maybe this had been a fallout place that hadn't been safe and flooded. Maybe the bottom of this lake was filled with skeletons and only their items floated to the top. Maybe…

Bellamy shook himself right. He had to get out of here, but turned and felt his face fall in dismay to realize there was no other passage.

"Son of a-," He said, walking over to the walls, trying to find a crack or even a tiny place he could squeeze too. This was not the place Bellamy Blake intended to die in.

He slid down against the rock wall, staring out over the large river, shaking his head. "What a place. Maybe Lincoln was right to be superstitious." He chuckled to himself, "Because clearly, I'm shit out of luck." He closed his eyes, and there was a thump next to him. Expecting some creature here to eat him, he opened an eye slowly, but still found himself alone in the room.

But now there was a book near him. Glancing upward, he saw a carved out-ledge filled to the brim with personal items. He must have knocked the book down when he sat.

A book was a book, he told himself, and if he was going to die, he was going to enjoy his time remaining, even if it was a crappy and smutty romance novel. Scratch that, eh thought with a wince; he still probably wouldn't enjoy that. He doubted he'd get thought the first page. At least it might give him a good laugh!

The pages were not as faded as he'd expected, but then again, it had been underground for over 100 years. A tingle of joy ran through his body as he read the title of the little book; "Orpheus and Eurydice! Now someone here knew how to enjoy themselves." He grinned, and opened to the first page.

A wind picked up around him all of a sudden, and Bellamy was sure he was going absolutely batty because he heard voices. Not the voices of his friends, but just muddled voices of joyous relief, like a thousand ones, all speaking at once. He looked at the book again, wondering if it had some nutty nut dust on it or something, and before he could read the wind blew his light out, and the drop the book as he jumped. Just like that, it all stopped. He picked up the book, feeling something scrawled deeply into the back of the cover, and squinted in the now dim lighting.

"HA--S?" He said out loud, unable to make out middle letters, "What…?"

There was a sound of footsteps running up to him, and he turned, expecting it to be Octavia or Clarke. On one had, he was pretty miffed they hadn't followed his directions, but on the other eternally grateful because it meant they'd found the other way in. No, it was most likely Clarke, he theorized, because after his fall Lincoln wouldn't let Octavia go back in here (a choice he fully supported for the moment).

"Princess, do you just feel like it's a day to disobey orders or something, because-," He began to say as he turned, tucking the book underneath his shirt, but it feel from his fingers. It wasn't Clarke, or Octavia, or Lincoln.

"You…" Bellamy backed up, his voice quavering, "I'm dreaming. I'm high. You're…you're not supposed to be here." He cried out in desperation, but felt his back collide with the wall.

The figure reached over and picked up the book, looking at the back, and shooting Bellamy a grin that sent his whole body cold, "I think the word you're looking for is Hades."


	3. Chapter 3

Bellamy swung around to where the rock wall was rough, his nose almost brushing against it as if the darkness that encapsulated him would protect him from the apparition that stood behind him. He breathed heavily through his nose, and felt his hands shaking violently.

"I'm high. That's the only way to describe this. Or I hit my head really hard. Really, really hard. Or for some goddamn reason I summoned him here. Those are plausible. All reasonable reason for why Finn fucking Collins is behind me."

There was a light scoff and Bellamy swung, staring intently at Finn's dark brown yes.

"A mirage. That's all…" Finn's eyes traveled downward, and Bellamy followed, feeling all the moisture leave his throat, "One that can hold books." He murmured almost in a haze, and waited, prayed for a sign of reaction from Finn. When he was given none, his world spun.

"No, I'm dead, aren't I?" Bellamy felt the world sway beneath him, "I died on that fall. Everyone's still worrying for me over there. That's it, it has to be. I'm dead," He said, and then glared at Finn, "And of all the freaking people, I meet you in the afterlife. Great."

"You're not dead." Finn said, "I promise."

"Then are you dead? Or was that all just a ruse." Bellamy turned himself around Finn until the wall was now behind Finn, and he backed up until he felt the ankles of his leg meet with the water in the bank. He felt something nudge him and looked down to see a decrepit boat laying in pieces on the edge. He grabbed a board, swinging it wildly round as Finn took a step toward him.

"I'm for sure dead," Finn frowned, "What are you going to do with that? Kill me again? And did you ever think for a second that maybe you're alive but you can see dead people?"

"Stay away," Bellamy said, backing further into the lake, "This is for my protection. Some messed up thing, you're going to kill me now, right? Because I was an awful person who did awful things?" He snarled, "Maybe I deserve it. Maybe I'm-,"

"Bellamy…we're…we don't want to kill you. I mean, you're the person everyone's been waiting for."

This made Bellamy drop his guard a bit, squinting curiously at Finn. "Everyone…" He repeated, "You and what army?"

With a blink, just like that, behind Finn were at least a thousand other people, all smiling and grinning at him like he was the best present any of them had ever received on Christmas. Bellamy took another step back but slipped on a slimy rock and went fully into the water, and backed up until his whole body was nearly submerged.

"Stay back! What the…" Bellamy was at a loss of words, a rare occurrence, as he stared at the group with wild eyes. Finn looked around, his jaw locking, and sighed.

"Guys, we're overwhelming him. I'll take it, okay?" He said, and slowly the people around him faded until Finn was the only one left.

Bellamy was still in the water, and he didn't even register the cold as he stared at where the spirits had been just moments before, wondering if he was just dreaming or tripping really hard on something.

"What? I'm some undead leader or something, Finn?" He sneered, for Bellamy's best defense was using sarcasm. Instead of laughing at him and assuring him otherwise, Finn gave a tight smile.

"Sorta, yeah." He said, and when Bellamy stared at him completely silent, offered a hand, "I can explain. Really. Just trust me."

Bellamy got up himself, trying to shake the water from his clothes. "I'm not Clarke, and I don't trust you."

At the name of Clarke, Finn's eyes cast downward, "Clarke never truly trusted me either." He murmured ruefully, "You wouldn't be that far apart from her then."

"You trusted her enough to let her kill you." Bellamy said, zeroing in on the place on Finn's stomach were it blood still dripped from the wound.

"Disadvantage of death; left in the state you die, until you go to the other side of the lake." Finn said, pointing to the far point where Bellamy could hardly see the edge of it.

"None of this is making much sense." Bellamy said, and Finn sighed.

"I know. This wasn't how I intended this to happen." Finn agreed.

"What, you thought I wasn't going to freak out when I saw someone who'd died a long time ago appear to me?" He questioned, and Finn winced.

"Well, we've encountered stranger, haven't we?"

Bellamy chose not to answer, but found a low rock ledge to sit on. It wasn't that he trusted Finn to be telling the truth about all this, but if he was going to be stuck here, he might as well be entertained…and truth be told, he'd be lying if he pretended he wasn't a smidgen curious about the workings of all this.

"So, you said I'm an undead leader. Please, elaborate." Bellamy said, "Who the fuck chose me for this? Because I have enough problems with leadership as it is."

"You offered." Finn said, and Bellamy scoffed.

"I think I would recall that." Bellamy said, and Finn picked up his fallen torch, re-lit it, and touched it to an old looking in-dent in the wall. All over the area, it lit up in the same way every ten feet.

"Cool trick." Bellamy said dryly. Now that it was light enough to see, Finn handed him the book he'd found, backside with the etching facing him. Now that it was lighter, he saw it wasn't just one word, but a whole thing. He looked at Finn, and then rolled his eyes and to appease him, read out-loud.

"Property of Hades incarnate. Do not open unless you abide by the rules and honor the vacancy." He said, and then startled looking up, "So when I opened this book, I became Hades."

Finn nodded.

"What the hell? I didn't read the back cover? Who the fuck reads the back cover of a book they know well? Un-do it. I want to un-do it." He demanded to Finn.

"You can't." Finn said curtly, "It's been done, congrats." He seemed a little too amused with the situation in whole, "Besides, that journal doesn't just fall down for the average guy. It might of always been you."

"Journal?" Bellamy held up the book "This is a novel, see-," He began to open it, but now found it filled with hand-drawings and different penmanship, and he quieted.

"So I'm a god now. Well, I always knew I was amazing." He said, leaning back, chuckling, because truth be told, he wasn't sure if he believed any of this at all right now. He was pretty sure he knocked his head and he was dreaming. It was reasonable to think that, after all, but why not just go along with this dream or whatever while he was here.

Hades had always been pretty cool, he'd thought, so it made sense out of all the gods, he chose this one.

"God incarnate. Have the jobs and abilities of Hades, but not a god. Immortal now, sort of. You can be killed otherwise we'd still be dealing with the first Hades and not have to wait for you, but you can kill yourself and end the position." He said.

"What do you mean waiting?" Bellamy said, "Shouldn't you be across the river already? Waiting in the fields for Clarke or Raven or whatever?" He questioned.

"We haven't had a Hades position filled in nearly 100 years." Finn murmured, "And we're running out of room, but without him, we're stuck. The last guy he had to deal with the basic death of the whole population, and when it cooled down and there were just a few strangers and we were all up in the sky, he quit. Killed himself. There haven't been enough humans left to find the book ever since. So, you have about a 100 years to get caught up on."

"How do you know all this. Did he write it in here?" Bellamy asked, beginning to flip to the end pages where there were still blanks sheets, but Finn got to it first.

"No, you just…begin to ask around. I talked to some of the people that have been waiting 100 years, got to know them. There's not really much else to do here." He said.

He was talking about it so candidly, like he actually believed it. Bellamy felt a low rumble of a laugh deep in his throat and before he could stop it, his chuckles bounced around the walls.

"Okay, so where's Cerberus? The doors with the faces? The fates? Huh, Finn? Where are they?" He asked, thinking he'd caught his dream-Finn at a loss. Instead, Finn shrugged.

"Years of wear and all, and they slowly dropped out. It's just been a one-man job for about 450 years now." He said, "Well, I mean, sometimes there's help. Sometimes the dead, people that are in the know." He said, and then looked meaningfully at himself.

"So why you. We don't' like each other, Collins." He said.

"Would you have rather had Dax or Shumway meet you? I can get them." Finn said dryly, and Bellamy felt his fists clench.

"No, you're good. Shumway is going straight to Tartarus." He said.

"It's not that simple." Finn said, "You can't just decide arbitrarily who goes where."

"Then what am I here for?" Bellamy questioned.

"It's all explained in there." Finn said, sighing, "It would take too long to explain. But before any of that even happens, there's something's to attend to." He said, "Come on." He motioned.

Bellamy followed him to the boat he'd tried to use as a defense before, pointing to it. "This is the River Styx. There's four other rives, you might have passed them. You weren't affected by it because you're already pretty much immortal or invincible. The rest of us? We wouldn't dare try touching that water."

"And the things floating in it?" Bellamy asked.

"Things people buried with their loved ones. It all ends up here, in a form. Not that they could take it with them, it's sad, really." Finn said, "But this boat is supposed to be the boat to take people across."

"It looks like shit." Bellamy said, tapping the hull and watching it fall apart even more.

"I would suggest just building a whole new one."

"When do you think I have time to build a freaking boat, Collins?" Bellamy felt exhausted with this charade, "I'm still a leader of the living, and already I'm out of time to eat without having to deal with some idiot."

"Or fine, I will. But I need wood, because as you can see we're a little low on trees growing in the underworld."

"Oh, you don't say." Bellamy cussed under his breath. This whole situation was still far to odd to process properly, not when everything was being thrown at him all at once.

"There's that." Finn said, and took Bellamy to a set up stairs leading up a cliffside, "At the top there is your home."

"Excuse me?" Bellamy scowled.

"Home. Palace. Whatever. Most of the other Hades lived here full time." He said.

"Charming, living around dead people. They must have been real extroverts, those guys."

"Well it's not an easy job." Finn said sharply, reprimanding him.

"And I've already told you, I don't want it." Bellamy hissed, "I have a job already. I don't want to be the leader of the underworld."

"Just like you didn't want to be a leader of the 100 when we came down?" Finn questioned, and Bellamy's lip pursed, "It's yours now. The job. You look a little white, do you want some food?"

"Nice trick." Bellamy backed up, "I know the myth well enough that it would be an awful idea to do that. Can I even leave now, though? Since I haven't eaten anything?"

"Bellamy, I don't think you get it. You're the supreme leader. You can leave and go even if you did eat. Whatever the hell you want, sorta." He said, reminding Bellamy of those early awful days, which put him no better mood.

"So I can leave?" He asked again, and Finn nodded, "Good. I want to go. Now." He said.

Finn frowned. "Are you coming back?"

"Yeah, sure. Whatever." Bellamy said, but from Finn's face it was obvious he knew he was lying. Instead of fighting it, Finn sighed, and motioned to an opening Bellamy hadn't seen before.

"Keep taking it straight, you'll come up on earth." He said, a little bitterly, and Bellamy glanced at the obviously gaping hole.

"Can't you go up there?" He asked, "To earth?"

"No." Finn's shoulders sagged, "We're stuck here. At least I got to see Earth, the trees, the sky, and the water. There's a lot of people here that were born and died on the Ark. It's them I feel the most pity for. We still have hope that there's trees and everything past the river. But without you, we'll never know." He said. Bellamy felt guilt creeping over his skin, but he shoved it away with force.

"Right." He coughed a bit, and then turned away.

"Take the same route back, when you return. It's the easiest way to get here!" Finn called after him. Bellamy nodded, but did not vocalize. He forced himself to not look back until he reached the blessed air of the living once again, and then stumbled- almost until dusk- to camp.

Clarke jumped up at his arrival, but Octavia got to him first.

"Bellamy! You're alive!" She said, and pulled back, gasping, "Clarke! He's bleeding!"

Immediately Clarke was at his side, pushing his hair back to reveal a cut, and he knew it wasn't good by the breath of air she sucked in sharply.

He took a step forward, but his foot stumbled and he felt a hint of black edging on the outside of his vision.

"My god, he's burning up." Clarke gasped, pressing a cool hand to his forehead, and he felt someone on his back, supporting him. His coat was shrugged off by his sister and Harper appeared at his side with a wet cloth, pressed against his forehead.

He hardly recalled Clarke helping him back to a cot in the medical wing, nor apparently Kane coming in and after seeing his condition announcing they would push the meeting about the caves back until the morning. All he remembered was waking up and seeing the lights above him, and turning to see Clarke and Octavia waiting for him.

"He's up!" Octavia breathed in wild relief.

"Why am I here?" He asked, turning around, noting the sterilized feeling of the medical wing.

"You sorta of fainted when you got back to camp. I guess I'm not surprised, you were gone for hours." Clarke said, and he sat up and she gave him a tin of water. He sipped, "What happened down there?"

"Did I tell you guys to go back outside the cave and wait for me? I can't remember…"He trailed off, frowning as he furrowed his brows. Octavia and Clarke exchanged worried looks.

"You did. You said there was another way out, but none of us could find a second entrance." Clarke said. Bellamy nodded, setting the empty tin down.

"I guess I do remember, because I asked about it. But sometime after that I had a really vivid dream and I guess I'm having trouble differentiating where it ends and begins."

"A dream?" Clarke titled her head, "The whole time? About what?"

He looked at Clarke, recalling Finn's excitement at her very name in his dream, and somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew she couldn't possibly be over him. It had been such a short period since he'd died, truthfully, and there'd been little time in between to grieve at all.

"Nothing important. I was back on the Ark." He lied.

"Well…how did you get out?" Octavia said.

"I can't remember." He lied, because if anything stuck in his mind, it was that path from darkness to light outside the cave.

"It's a bit worrying, but I think you were just tired, hungry, thirsty. If you still have memory problems tomorrow, then we might have a problem." Clarke said, and Octavia's shoulders slumped.

"Thank god…" She murmured.

"So what now?" He asked, swinging his legs over the bed.

"You go to sleep. Kane wants a meeting in the morning about the caves, but I think we already know the answer." Clarke said, standing and stretching, "Night, guys." She nodded to the Blake siblings.

Bellamy after insisted that he could walk across camp back to his own tent, of course, and that Octavia should go back to her own. Each step he took, the more Bellamy truly was convinced the whole situation was just some really odd and vivid day-mare, that none of it had been true. It's not like there was anything to prove it, and he sure as hell wasn't going back there.

On the ground of his tent lay his jacket, still sprawled where Octavia had hastily thrown it. He picked it up to lay it over his chair, but there was an odd weight in the pocket. He fished a square object from it, and he froze.

It was that damned book.

He set the jacket down in a haze, and felt his feet slide from underneath him as he fell onto his bed, staring at the cover in shock. He almost dropped it in his haste to spin it around, still finding the scratching on the back. He flipped open to the series of journals, squeezing his eyes shut.

"You're fucking kidding me." He growled in a low tone, shaking his head. He couldn't have dreamed this into existence, it didn't work like that. He slammed the book shut with an audible sound, and dropped it next to his bed, curling over and staring at the wall of the tent.

It wasn't a dream, it wasn't a dream, it wasn't a dream; he repeated this over and over and over until his lips were chapped. It was real.

It was at that moment a thought hit him like a pound of bricks; if everyone who had died in the last 97 years was down there, Aurora Blake was sitting and waiting by the river like everyone else. His mother was down there.

It was this singular thought that gave Bellamy the courage to promise himself that tomorrow night he'd go back. But tonight, for the first time in weeks, he felt himself falling asleep without even trying.


	4. Chapter 4

It took a full week for Clarke to figure it out.

That first day after Bellamy had returned from the cave they'd held a meeting. Bellamy had sworn up and down and said, and she quoted 'No way in fucking hell was that anywhere they should live,' and because of the use of such profanity at a meeting (which received a cold glare from Kane in his direction) it was clear that perhaps he had some strong feelings about it. When he was asked to divulge further, questioned why it wasn't going to work, Bellamy had suddenly become meek.

His replies had been almost nondescript; exactly the problems one would guess would happen living in a cave. He said there wasn't a good supply of water, there were potentials for cave-ins, he'd smelled something funny, and a plethora of other 'excuses', but he didn't sound particularly convinced by any. Actually, he'd seemed almost distant. And Clarke knew that it was obviously something else that had happened to freak the great Bellamy Blake into using such coarse language among adults.

If she just could figure out what.

Only Miller seemed concerned with her, and when she asked Octavia if the whole meeting seemed off with him, she shrugged.

"He was really badly tortured in those caves. I wasn't there, but you know it was bad. Maybe this triggered something?" She asked.

If that was the case, Clarke realized, she'd feel guilty about it forever.

The rest of the week, Lincoln walked around with a slight and smug smile that clearly stated, "I told you all so." It seemed to come to no surprise that this exaggerated response would occur, but he became stoic (more so than usual) and tight-lipped when Clarke cornered him to question more about the legends people associated with that cave.

After all her ends there were exhausted, she tried to watch him. The first thing she noticed was a book he seemed to have magically acquired. She never got a good look at the cover, because he read it when he thought no one else was around. He was also engrossed in it in such a way Clarke had never seen someone obsessed with something. He would read it and clutch it like it was a lifeline, and often when he read it, he switched from looking concerned to completely amazed.

One day, she watched him set it down just inside his tent as he was momentarily called away to deal with something, and Clarke jumped on the moment, running in and grabbing the book.

The cover told her it was a mythology book. She knew Bellamy had a certain affinity for all that stuff, as Octavia had told her often that growing up her dolls/toys were all named things like 'Augustus' or 'Eros' because those were the only stories she heard- like Bellamy would have been caught dead reading to her about Rapunzel or a princess like any other little girl would like.

But maybe Clarke shouldn't be judging the book by it's cover, she reckoned, and opened it and was overwhelmingly disappointed when the text seemed completely normal. She flipped through it, holding it upside-down and shaking it, but nothing came out. Frowning, she glanced at the cover again, more confused than ever. Maybe-

"Princess," A teasing voice called, and she spun, dropping the book behind her with a soft thud, feeling embarrassed to be caught going through his things, "Any reason you're in my tent? Feeling lonely?" He asked, coming a step closer.

"I…" She sputtered, her mind going blank as she tried to summon a reasonable excuse, but found nothing, "I'm worried about you." She finally admitted, hoping her truthfulness would gain her points.

"About what?" He raised an eyebrow.

"You seem really freaked out about those caves." She said.

Bellamy shrugged, "I pushed to go into them, got hurt, and came back with nothing. It's upsetting. We've hit a wall with other options, seeing as there are not sufficient caves for everyone else. You must feel stressed out about where we're going to live next year too."

"It's something more. I mean, of course I'm worried, but you swore in a meeting."

"I wanted everyone to know that it was not even up for discussion." He replied swiftly, and Clarke suppressed a long sigh.

"You'd tell me if there was something really wrong happening, right?" She finally asked after a long moment.

"Sure, of course." He seemed genuine but his promise didn't meet his eyes, "Co-leaders, I swear."

"Okay." Clarke swallowed thickly, and turned exiting his tent; all the while feeling his eyes trace her steps.

It was another couple days before she figured something else out; Bellamy seemed exhausted most days. Not the tired she was, which was that you were up all night staring at the ceiling and thinking, but the kind of tired that you went for a run in the middle of the night and then had to get up and pretend that you got a full night's sleep.

She stayed up and sat shielded in the shadows of the ark station, and watched him slip out of camp and he did not return until it was nearly dawn. She watched him for another two nights. On the fourth night, Clarke followed him.

She knew the path they were going soon after it began, the memory of the footpath that took to those caves still fresh in her mind. She always stayed a couple places behind him, and whenever he turned, she ducked down low and waited until he was nearly out of sight before she began following him once again.

When they reached the cave, Bellamy did nothing for a long time. It seemed the whole night he did nothing. He instead sat himself facing the rock wall, staring at it and switching between that and flipping through his pages. Once he got up and dragged a couple more logs that had fallen to a pile of wood Clarke was sure wasn't there when they'd gone through originally, and it looked like he'd finally chosen to do something, but in the end went back to a place that seemed well-worn by his sitting, as if this is the only thing he'd been doing all those nights.

He left before dawn; leaving Clarke ultimately confused and really tired.

And just her luck, she'd all but forgotten her round that day was with Raven working in explosive material. She pressed herself to stay awake for long periods, and for the first part of the morning, Raven didn't seem to notice. It was only when she almost blew up the entire camp that Raven grabbed her away, staring at her.

"Camp go boom." Raven illustrated with hand-motions and sounds, the whole shebang when Clarke seemed not to fully understand her mistake. Her groggy mind rebelled against the haze until she realized her actions with a flush of red to her cheeks.

"My god, Raven! I…" He trailed off, finding no reasonable excuse to justify her tiredness.

"Are you okay, Clarke? You're really tired. If you need a nap, I'd rather you take it than make a mistake I won't be around to catch." She said, narrowing her eyes. Clarke shook her head.

"I'm just…" She sighed, "I'm tired, yeah."

"Is there something going on I should be aware of? Bellamy seems exhausted too." She said, and at first Clarke thought it to be harmless, until there was a glimmer in her eyes.

"What? Him and me? No, that's not it." She denied fervently.

"Then tell me why you both seem to act like the walking dead around camp these days, because there better be a pretty good reason that's not banging. That reason, I could get behind, you know."

"Raven, I'm not talking about that." Clarke said, waving a hand, "Bellamy…every night he slips out and goes back to that cave area he disappeared into. I followed him last night."

"Well, what did he say about it?" Raven asked, leaning in with curiosity.

"He didn't. I mean, I didn't ask him."

"So you just stalked him." Raven said, standing back up and smirking.

"I was concerned!" Clarke muttered, "He seemed…enamored with it." Clarke said, "I just want to know why."

Raven stared at her for a long time, then sighed, "Has Bellamy not been doing his tasks? Almost blown up a camp with a mistake? Gave anyone an indication he wanted to be followed?"

"No, but-,"

"No buts!" Raven cut her off, "Maybe you should just let it go, you know. I mean, you trust him right?"

"Absolutely." Clarke furrowed her eyebrows.

"Then let him visit a stupid rock every night. It's as was said before, people cope in different ways. Maybe that cave did something, made him remember something, you know? Unless he asks for your help, I don't think you'll find it wanted."

"That sounds like Bellamy," Clarke agreed slowly, "I just…I asked him if something was really wrong he'd tell me and he agreed. Do you think he's lying?"

"I think he needs to figure it out for himself. Maybe to him nothing is wrong, did you think of that? Most of us don't want to admit that the whole experience really messed us up. Have you talked to Glass recently, I mean? He'll act as if he single-handedly killed all the guards and he never got touched by them."

"But they do need help!" Clarke said firmly, "Glass is only hurting myself by pretending so and-,"

"You can't save everyone all at once, Clarke." Raven said, a tone firmly ending the conversation, "Start with the people who actually want to be saved, okay?"

And Clarke let herself believe that was enough, for a while. That night, as she was very aware, Bellamy left again. She was already awake with her own thoughts per usual, and therefore she was able to watch him slip back into camp before everyone else awoke once again. She scoffed to herself; whoever was on guard duty was doing a shitty job, if he'd left nearly a week in a row and nothing had come up of it yet.

The next night, though, she remembered she wasn't a very patient person. Despite being trained as a doctor, it wasn't her forte, so she had quite honestly decided she was going to follow him even before the sun went down. Confident he would go to the same place, Clarke left a long time after he'd gone, and found that he'd taken the same path so often the grass had begun to wear into a walking trail, but she doubted he'd notice.

She began a little bit concerned when she came to the clearing and he was not there. She waited to see if maybe he was off collecting more wood for the steadily growing pile, but soon it became clear that perhaps she'd been wrong and he wasn't here at all. She got up, and walked to the middle of the clearing.

She walked over to the woodpile, then to the tree he sat. She had a moment of hesitation, but then she slid down against the tree to the spot he usually sat, frowning a she stared that the rock side. In the dark, it looked as menacing as Lincoln so fiercely believed it to be.

"So you are following me." A sharp voice made her jump, and she turned to see Bellamy leaning against a tree, glaring at her. She realized him not being here was intentional. But instead of becoming flustered, Clarke rose, glaring him down too.

"Just because you're exhausted every day and I think you're hiding something." She said, stomping a foot.

He raised an eyebrow, waving his hand, "And pray tell, what exactly have you learned about me, Princess?" He questioned coolly.

She clenched her jaw, looking down. She hadn't really found out anything. She hadn't' even really known what she was going to do tonight, 'stalk' him again like Raven said? Confront him?

"Well, why do you come here every night?" She fired back, ignoring his own question. She felt her heart thumping against her ribcage, her every movement realized as her blood hummed with an anger she didn't really know where it was coming from. Perhaps it was the fact that something was up and he'd very blatantly lied about the idea he'd tell her about it. Maybe she was angry about something else and this was her way of coping, letting it out on him, no matter how childish it was. Maybe it wasn't even anger, but just like sometimes you needed a good cry, Clarke needed a good screaming match with Bellamy in the middle of the woods.

She got no answer, and certainly no fight, for instead Bellamy slumped his posture a bit, shrugging. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you." He murmured softly, shoving his hands in his pockets. She narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing him.

"Does this have anything to do with that weird vision you saw while you were down there?" She asked. Bellamy's eyes wandered over the treetops, as if thinking.

"You could say that." He answered vaguely.

"I get the feeling it wasn't actually about the Ark." Clarke said, although she didn't' know what possessed her to say that, as she hadn't even entertained that possibility until it came out of her mouth. Yet as it did, it seemed the most plausible.

"No, you're right. It wasn't. But I don't really want to tell you." He said truthfully.

"Well," Clarke huffed, "Whatever it is, maybe you should. It's clearly affecting you. Sane people don't wander to dangerous caves in the middle of the night unless they have a death wish."

Something that she said was apparently hilarious, because Bellamy began to laugh, despite there being no apparent humor in what she'd said.

"Is death funny, Blake?" She said, feeling frustrated with his edgy behavior, "I think I'm missing the joke, otherwise." She said, deadpanned.

"Inside joke." He said, grinning to her.

"With who?" She waved her arms, and Bellamy just kept grinning at her. Great. He was probably delusional. Sleep depravation did that, of course, reasonably.

"Like I said, you wouldn't believe me if I told you." He said, and before Clarke could argue his position, he looked at the sky, "If you don't want people to question us being out alone all night, we'd better get back."

Clarke recoiled, "That's ridiculous. No one would think anything. We're leaders, we probably had leader things to do."

"Sure, Clarke." Bellamy seemed quite amused, "Because that's exactly what a hot-blooded teen boy would think if you disappeared with me into the forest."

"Well, they're being silly. We're not 'together' or anything." She said, although she knew that people would begin rumors if they didn't leave soon.

"Huh." Bellamy clicked his tongue, "Because someone did follow me like a crazy stalker every night into the woods." He pointed out.

"It was only two nights," She winced, "I swear. It's only because I'm worried about you."

"Really? You're worried?" That seemed to genuinely surprise him, "Even Octavia hasn't…" He trailed off.

"I wouldn't call me more perceptive, I'm just more annoying about it." She assured him when his face fell, "And of course I'm worried. You should know how I feel about you." She said, but regretted her last sentence when Bellamy swung his head around to face her like she'd said something offensive.

"I do?" He said.

Clarke repressed her groan; typical boy to forget important things like this. She didn't dare bring up the whole, 'love is weakness' and how she'd given that whole big speech to him and then proclaim she wasn't going to be weak anymore, directly followed with a casual 'therefore you need to go into Mount Weather' declaration. That should have been enough content to gather her feelings toward him, as she'd quite plainly said it…

Love.

Not 'in love' with him, like Finn had been with her or she'd thought she'd been with him, but love deeper than just care about well-being. Despite everything, from those first days when he'd been so self-assured, to Charlotte, to everything else, they'd become the leaders of these kids together. They'd gone through a lot, and if they had no emotions to show for it, it would be a shame.

It was the sort of love that was…difficult. It wasn't a parental love, and she didn't quite know how sibling love felt like, but she wasn't sure it was that either. In fact if she had to categorize it, which she had on a loose sheet of paper, it was in a whole different category apart from parents, siblings, friends, and actual 'in loves'. It was an enigma she also didn't want to spend too much time on, because she feared the answer.

Or perhaps, she already sort of knew. It was almost there with Lexa in the 'could be in loves'. To say she'd never felt a surge of passion for the tiny female leader would be a lie, but the circumstances of the upcoming war all the way to her betrayal left her stranded in a category of an almost lover. Perhaps Bellamy was there too, but there was the possibility to be-

"Clarke? Are you in love with me?" Bellamy said in faux amazement, slapping a hand over his heart theatrically, recalling her to her own world.

"No!" Clarke rolled her eyes, "Not that." She wasn't going to even bring up the possibility of it, there just wasn't any point, "You're…it's really hard to describe, Bellamy. You're my co-leader and I trust you more than anyone else in camp, more than my own mother."

"Trust me most of the time," Bellamy corrected, "Or you wouldn't' be out here."

"Okay, most of the time. You're almost like a best friend, but not really. I would just be really upset if you died. I told you before, I need you. I can't do this without you." She said, and Bellamy gave a small grin.

"Yeah, I'm pretty important to a lot of things." He agreed, and Clarke laughed, rolling her eyes, glad to see a shining bit of his normal personality still coming through. They reached the hill near the camp, "So…do you trust me enough to not follow me anymore?" He asked.

"Are you going back out there?" Clarke asked, crossing her arms, jerking her head in the direction they'd come, "To the cave?"

"Yeah, I am." He said without missing a beat. Clarke sucked on her bottom lip.

"Well, are you ever going to tell me what this is about?" She continued. Bellamy frowned, and seemed to think about it for a long time. This just made her more curious, for anything that took such careful precautions…she really wanted to know what was eating at him.

"I don't even know if I can." He admitted, further adding to her impatience to find out what it was all about.

"What's that mean?" She asked. Bellamy gave her a look for a long couple seconds, and Clarke sighed.

"Fine, I won't follow you." She finally said, throwing her hands up in a surrender position. She sighed a long moment, looking at him, "But…maybe you shouldn't go out every night. Won't be long until someone besides me notices…you don't want that. Others won't be as easily swayed to stop questioning."

"I highly doubt there's a single person in camp who's as determined as you, Princess." Bellamy shrugged.

"Do you want Kane on your case? Wondering if you're still a fit leader? You're by no means his favorite, and honestly Bellamy, this camp would fall to shit if you weren't on the council. We both know that."

Bellamy quieted, neither denying nor accepting her words, but from the pulling downward of his lips, she knew she'd made a break through.

"Fine. I'll be more cautious in my days, and you won't stalk me." He agreed, finally shrugging.

"It wasn't stalking." Clarke muttered, pushing past him into camp. She didn't turn, because she knew if she did she'd see him grinning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was playing around with photoshop and made a cover for this fanfic! I like it, and take take a second to check it out: http://frostfootdreamleaf22.deviantart.com/art/Bellamy-and-Clarke-Hades-Persephone-526976785


	5. Chapter 5

Bellamy listened to Clarke and for two nights he forced his limbs to stay in bed, no matter how tempting it was. If it hadn't been for Clarke following him the night she did, he would have gone in. The very thought that he would have finally had to face it, real or not, scared him. He was right now in a limbo of still questioning whether or not it happened, and he was 95% sure it was just a dream. He was a general cynic about most things, and even though they'd been on the ground for months now he was about .99% sure this was a dream as well, and he'd one day jolt awake and he'd still be a janitor or his sister would still be under the floor.

In hindsight, that would be the worst, he figured. To have to walk around the Ark and see people like Raven or Clarke (Probably not the delinquents, they'd be locked up) and it would kill him that he couldn't nod to them or acknowledge them because none of this would happened. It would tear him apart that in the little square at the bottom of the screens around the Ark to see the names of Jasper or Miller under the recently dead list because there's a reason those kids were expendable…they weren't going to get out after their 18th.

That would be far worse than anything he could imagine. For all the awful shit that had happened down here on earth, it was so much better than the Ark. If someone were to have told him years ago that one day he and his sister could live out in the open will full disclose to their genetics and no one would try to kill either of them (well, at least not about the sibling thing) he might have wondered if they'd visited Monty or was suffering from oxygen depravation.

Back to the point; although the book was detailed back a thousand years ago and further of past 'Hades' all with tips and tricks and what-not, he couldn't help but still think it was some elaborate prank. For all the nights he'd gone, and collected wood to build this boat, he hadn't a chance to step back and really ask himself the huge questions.

Was it real? Did he want to acknowledge it? What would happen then?

But that third night, after it seemed that he couldn't wait a second longer, he slipped out again. As he passed the part of the station where Clarke slept, he saw a pale face turn toward the grimy window. Clarke knew he was going, but she turned back, and he was thankful.

You should know how I feel about you.

It was at the same time the most infuriating and haunting thing he'd heard someone ever say. And yeah, maybe he'd known a little, but it was so freeing to hear someone else say it right up, no hesitations. He'd never expected Clarke to be one to suddenly shy away, and he had to admit he'd been a little disappointed with her answer.

Then again, that would make him a coward too.

He'd gone into that mountain because she asked him too. When he said he'd do anything for her, as her second, it wasn't empty words and it wasn't even just in the line of duty. It was freaking everything. Bellamy would jump in front of an arrow for her! He'd treat her right, if she let him.

He'd been a nice boy, once. Growing up only around women didn't make a man cruel toward women at all, and as a child he used be called 'polite' and 'kind'. He was the type of kid that opened doors for people and carried old lady's bags back to her room without asking. He'd intended to find a wife and treat her a thousand times better than his dead-beat father had ever treated his mother.

And then…life hit the fan. It all fell apart, after that. If he pretended he didn't become surly and bitter, he'd be lying. And those first nights on earth will all those women…he was ashamed. Clarke probably associated him with men who slept around all the time without thinking twice about the female in bed. It's how he had portrayed himself, after all. It was no fault but his own.

That wasn't him, though. Not underneath it all. He was a young man though, no denying that, and that render-vous with Raven had been fueled by jealousy, same as hers, for the pair in question she came badgering to him about. But he didn't expect it to help, he wasn't an idiot.

"You should know how I feel too, Clarke." He said out loud, pressing the bridge of his nose, "but you don't."

Grinding his teeth, he pushed those thoughts aside and unfurled the tent base he'd brought to carry the sticks down into the underworld. It wasn't overly heavy, and he worried for a moment in the absolute darkness he'd forgotten the way, or there had never been a way at all.

He reached the large cavern, but it was void of life and light. He stood around for a couple seconds, the sticks clattering to the ground audibly. He spun around, and when he turned to face around fully and it was still empty, he laughed darkly.

"It was all in your head, Blake. You were an idiot for thinking otherwise." He said out loud, shaking his head at his own stupidity. Hades? Souls of the dead? River Styx? Yeah, it was all too good to be true.

He turned, and he heard a soft fall of steps behind him. He turned, and there was Finn.

"You came back…?" There was a question on the end, as if Finn could simply not believe it, "Everyone else bet against you, but I knew you'd return."

"Who was betting against me?" Bellamy demanded sharply, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, doesn't matter. Wouldn't want you to smite them." Finn laughed nervously. Bellamy stared at his fingers.

"I have the power of smiting?"

"Let's not try it out." Finn looked at the wood, a relieved look washed over his face, "Oh, thank Zeus."

"What happened to God?" Bellamy teased, then shrugged when Finn didn't respond, "Why did everything think I wouldn't?"

"I don't know if I would either." Finn began softly, "It's depressing down here. More than a thousand dead souls that have been waiting for you forever, almost literally. It's a lot to take in. And, no offence, why did you come back?" Finn asked, frowning at him.

"My mother." Bellamy admitted swiftly, "If there was any inch this might be true, lord, I couldn't leave her down here. She gave up everything for us, you know. Most women on the ark would have an abortion with their second child and never seemed to regret it, but my mom somehow hid it and protected us. I feel so upset that she's stuck here. She shouldn't be. And then, further than that…" Bellamy swallowed, "There are my people down here. Not just the Arkians, not just 320 souls I killed while down here, but Sterling and Atom down here waiting…for me. They're my people, Finn."

"You've always been a leader." Finn nodded with agreement, "that's how I knew you'd come back."

"Can I see her?" Bellamy asked, "My mom? She's here? Is she okay?"

"As well as the rest of us." Finns aid, then winced, "I don't think you should…you can't get attached, Bellamy. You have to let her go eventually. All of them." He said, nodding back, although there was no one there.

"Then why are you here?" Bellamy felt his shoulders slump and his excitement deflate.

"Please, I doubt you're going to get 'attached' to me, right? And you need a helper. I've learned stuff down here, you're pretty new to this."

Bellamy looked at him, and suddenly the 'drip, drip, drip' of his wound in his stomach echoed around the whole cavern. Bellamy's mouth pulled into a deep frown as he was thrust back into that moment in the Grounder's camp, seeing the women and children lying dead on the ground.

He'd never been so disgusted by anyone else in his life. It was that moment where hell or high-water he was damn sure that he'd never let Clarke get near him again, as foolish as it sounded. For it was in that moment, Bellamy saw him to be a monster. That was the difference between the two. Finn might have been all about peace and all when they first arrived, but there was a beast, a creation of nature to keep people alive in the wild and Finn's was ruthless. When push came to shove…

Bellamy wasn't queasy. Bellamy didn't faint easy, but seeing a child slain and bleeding out on the roots of the forest floor, bullets riddled in a body much too small and too broken, not much older than Charlotte, and he'd felt his lunch come up his throat.

A part of him had hated Finn. A part of him defended him to Clarke later, for reasons he couldn't understand. Maybe it pained him to see Clarke so conflicted, to flinch every time he walked around like she expected him to open fire on her. Maybe it was a small sacrifice to make Clarke at ease.

Yet, there was a line between surviving and deserving to survive and as much as he'd been caught up in the whirlwind of the pain and sacrifice Clarke had made, now stepping away and recalling it all over again, it was like acid burning inside of him. This also wasn't wisdom he'd learned until later, after all his own sins, after Dante's death.

Bellamy wasn't perfect. He regretted many things he'd done, and after the Mount Weather incident, maybe he was no better than Finn was.

But he hadn't wanted to. He'd done it because he'd be damned if Clarke carried the weight of that choice alone, when they were co-leaders. It was all for Clarke, and now his payment was to see the faces of every person with their red skin and breaking faces as they passed over to the other side, forever reminded of his crimes. He and Finn had each paid their price.

He looked at Finn and realized with a sickening jolt that they were the same. He hated it, one side argued, but the other reminded him that this was the boy Clarke had loved, truly loved, first.

Maybe there was some merit in being like Finn, but that was the wrong thing to think in these circumstances, because Clarke- if he was being completely unselfish- deserved someone far away from he and Finn. Someone good not stained with blood from deaths, someone who never had to chose to kill someone before.

But Bellamy had been selfless with an illegal younger sister, and that left him in a shithole.

"No, I won't get attached." Bellamy agreed finally after a long-moment, his voice calm and heavy. He looked around, his eyes still unfocused in the dark room, "Can you do that fire thing again? Light this place up?" He questioned. Finn shuffled his feet.

"Well, can't you? You're the 'god' here, this is your realm." He pointed out, and Bellamy frowned, unsure how to proceed. Will of thought? Magic? He wasn't sure.

He walked over to a wall, feeling extremely silly, and said a couple words in Greek for 'light' or 'on', or other synonyms. Then in Latin. Then in German, just because it wasn't working. He waved his hands around. Nothing. And he felt stupid.

It was then that he had the strangest memory, that back on the Ark, in the Alpha stations for those that had wealth and power and were too lazy to even walk across the room, their lights were automated by a simple motion and sound. Bellamy scowled, raising his hands but desperate for anything, and brought them together.

Clap. Clap.

The lights flickered on from nowhere. Bellamy held in a derisive scoff; of course it would turn on like royalty. But then again, he was royalty now, was he not? He was a freaking God. People used to worship and throw money at them and live their whole lives around the idea of these people. These sorts of people he now was included in.

"Well," He murmured to himself with a light smirk, "I always knew I was handsome for a reason."

"Uh…" Fin coughed behind him, "The boat?"

"Right. Sure. The boat." Bellamy and Finn stared together at the pile of wood, "Do you know how to build one?" He asked. Finn looked at him strangely.

"Sorry, missed boat making 101 on the Ark." He replied sarcastically, then paused, "So that means you don't know either, eh?" Bellamy shook his head.

"Great. My first motion as a ruler is to turn the boat across the river a glorified raft." He threw his hands out, "Do we even have like nails? Hammers?" He questioned, realizing that just wood did not make a boat, "Saws?"

"Well…" Finn shifted on the balls of his feet, "Up there might."

"Up where?" Bellamy tilted his head, following Finn's gaze up to the pearly white side of a mansion on a hill overlooking the river. His house; to be more precise, or at least his house now, "Oh. Up there."

"Stairs are this way." Finn motioned, and Bellamy followed.

"So are there other god incarnates still around?" He asked. Finn shrugged helplessly.

"If they are, they don't come around here. But…I think a lot of them disappeared after their use dried up. Like what did Zeus really do back in Greece?"

"Well, according to every story I've read, sleep with mortal girls or nymphs." Bellamy replied, "Like, I could see Demeter being still around."

"Demetor?" Finn scratched his head. Bellamy was unfamiliar with the word.

"Huh?"

"Aren't those from Harry Potter?" Finn turned. Bellamy gave him a blank look.

"What are you talking about?" He shook his head, "You know what, never mind. Don't care." He realized and Finn didn't say anything more.

At the top of the winding stone stairway was the arch into the house and the gardens. Bellamy couldn't help but think everything looked dead, and not just dead because it was the underworld. It was all dirty and grimy, and then he recalled it had been left alone for the better part of a century. No maids in the underworld, unfortunately. Grimacing, he ran his finger over a marble statue to reveal the white underneath and his finger came back black.

"I guess I have more work here than I thought." He sighed, looking at everything. Finn as a man on a mission, hardly listening to Bellamy as he disappeared into the house.

It was an odd mismatch; built with Greek inspiration clearly, for the first Hades, but as the subsequent ones had moved in, they'd brought trinkets from their time period into the lair. There were many things that he couldn't identify, and more that he'd only heard about from the Ark, things he thought he'd never have the chance to see ever. An ipod sat next to an old record player, a box of musty records at the side. A microwave balanced precariously on top of an old loom, which was about to fall on top of a barrel of ancient guns. In the corner was a fully formed statue of some sort of dinosaur.

Bellamy marveled at the treasures, thrills running up his spine and the idea of being up here more often didn't seem so dreary with the idea he could spend hours looking and examining each and every memory from the past within these walls.

He followed Finn in the halls. They found the kitchen and the bathroom, the study and a grand and ostentatious bedroom with a real honest-to-god bed, not just cots or the ones he'd had upon the Ark which were platforms with blankets at best.

"Found some nails and a hammer!" Finn called from the study. Bellamy came to stand by him, and saw a large window at the other end of the room. He felt himself drifting that way, and when he looked out he saw he was on the ledge that overlooked the pass between limbo and the afterlife.

He looked to the side and stumbled back into a globe that made an awful sound as it squeaked against the floor.

"What? You're Hades, what could possible scare you, Bellamy?" Finn questioned, coming up by him.

"Those people…there's so many…" Bellamy's throat went dry, for as he stared out the window, just a sea of heads and faces and bodies were stories below him, all congregated in a great large huddle, so many that they seemed endless.

"Wh…why couldn't I see them down there? There's so many…" He repeated faintly, running his fingers through his hair.

"I don't know. You didn't want to, I suppose? It's a bit overwhelming, I understand." Finn said, his gaze fixed out there, "Everyone's down there. See what I mean that we're running out of space?" He said dryly, turning.

"Finn, there are babies down there. Babies." He repeated.

"Yeah, so?" Finn seemed undisturbed.

"How can you judge a three-month-old's soul?"

"They just go to the fields, so I hear. They're neither good nor bad, so you can't send them to paradise nor to hell." Finn shrugged, "I don't get why that's so upsetting out of everything." Finn turned to go away, for he was obviously far more used to the sight, but Bellamy was stuck where he was.

"Are they happy down there?" He asked.

"That's stupid." Finn immediately said, then sighed and apologized a second after, but continued, "Its just…there are some that have been waiting for decades to move on, Bellamy. It's cold down there, it's cramped. We're in close quarters with people we hate so there's always a fist –fight or something."

"Fist fight?" Bellamy frowned, "Between who?"

"Who do you think? The grounders and other grounders, the grounders and sky-people, Sky people against former chancellors, the Grounders and the Mountain Men, us and the Mountain Men, against me- I've taken a couple punches- just everyone." Finn threw his hands out for emphasis.

"Is there anything I can do?" Bellamy found himself saying, wincing.

"No shit. You're Hades. You can do everything." The nails rattled in the can, "Boat first. Moving on second." He said.

Bellamy nodded, and went to set the globe back on it's spot. It had halfway rolled into another room, and Bellamy at first did not notice. But as he straightened, he glanced upward and his heart stopped.

When he'd first come to earth, the sight of nature had made him smile, but others had cried. Goddamn cried at seeing earth for the first time. Said it was the most beautiful thing they'd ever seen. But now, Bellamy felt like that. His throat clogged and he felt his whole body go limp as he stared at rows upon rows of book cases. Fingers shaking, he reached out, grabbing a book by its spine.

"First edition…" Bellamy breathed, feeling like in the old days before the nuclear bomb, a book like this was worth more than he was. And he now owned millions of them.

"Bellamy!" Finn's sharp voice came from behind.

"Finn! Finn look!" Bellamy spun, "Look, it's a Picasso! An original one too!" He pointed to the wall. Finn squinted at the portrait, among many, upon the wall.

"Uh…a what?"

"Did you never read on the Ark? Did you never pay attention in the Art, Music, and Literature appreciation class?" Bellamy threw up his hands, "My god! Uncultured people…"

"You did?" Finn seemed actually surprised.

Bellamy rolled his eyes, stalking past him, "Clarke would appreciate this." He muttered.

"Whoa. You're not bringing her down here." Finn stopped him, poking him in the chest.

"My realm. Whatever I want, isn't it, Collins?" Bellamy reminded with a smirk.

"No, seriously." Finn said, "Just…" He puffed out his cheeks, thinking for a moment, "She'd just want to see her dad, okay. It would make her sad, you know?" He said.

Bellamy knew, of course he did. He'd been wondering how her dad was doing; you didn't just forget a friend of yours had a dead and floated parent too, of course. But he couldn't put Clarke through that, no more than he could put Octavia or himself, Finn was right.

But he wasn't going to give the dark-haired boy the satisfaction. Instead, he ignored the topic completely.

"Let's go. You're dripping blood all over my expensive floors." He grumbled.

When they got back down to the ground, Finn and Bellamy once again stared at the pile of wood. Now they had nails and a hammer and a dangerous and rusty looking cutting tool, but still no idea how to build a boat.

"Doesn't your Hades Pocket Guide have anything to say?" Finn asked. Bellamy pulled out the journal, his fingers brushing against the etchings in the back.

"I've read this thing five times over, I'd know." Bellamy shook his head, "Can we pull a former boat maker from the crowd over there? Someone has to be a carpenter or something!"

Finn's eyes lit up, "Of course! Why didn't I think of that?"

"I'll find one, then." Bellamy wiped his hands on his pants, "Might as well meet my people, right?" He asked, chuckling, wondering if he would pass a certain point and the people would just…appear?

"Uhh…I'll do it." Finn said nervously, cutting in front of him.

"Finn?" Bellamy knew the tone, "Why can't I?"

"Well…" Finn winced, "Not everyone knows that you're the new Hades. The spirits you saw before, those were mostly the old-timers."

Bellamy scowled, "In other words, my mom does not know." Bellamy felt his fists clench.

"Your mom, Shumway, Charlotte…only those dead sixty years or longer have seen you, but they don't know your name." He said.

"So then how did you get this oh-so-important job?" Bellamy motioned to himself.

"I was up talking with the first guy in line. We've become friends, I suppose. Weird to think he could be like my great-great-great-grandfather. But I saw the book fall and you choose it. I quickly convinced everyone you and I were friends," Bellamy scoffed, "And got up to you before someone else did."

"My mom has a right to know." Bellamy said firmly, "That's cruel, Finn."

"Well, it's same for you as it is for her! Attachment and I thought-,"

"You don't have to 'think' anymore." Bellamy said icily, "For am I not in charge?" He questioned, raising an eyebrow. Finn looked desperately, but knew there was not much he could do, "They deserve to know. Anyone."

He strode past Finn, anger and frustration echoing with every step. He was determined, they needed to know. They should know. It wasn't fair. He was their leader, and Finn didn't need to be the in-between guy. Finn followed behind tentatively.

Bellamy passed the point where he'd seen the people, blinked and willed, and just like that, millions of faces turned his way with fear and excitement as he came. The whispered began, a million people all talking softly to each other at once.

"The new Hades…" He mostly heard, and waited until it died down. It was now he realized he didn't know what to say, regardless of how determined he'd been just three seconds ago.

"Hi," Bellamy coughed, staring at the blank faces in front of him, "So…I'm you're new Hades. We have to uh…fix the boat, but after that we should be getting you guys on-,"

"It's about time!" Someone yelled, and he realized that people were angry as voices chimed in and insults were thrown his way. Very angry, and rightfully so.

"Look, I can't control that I wasn't here before. Not my problem. But this is my problem now, and I'm going to fix it, but if you all are unhappy with me or fell like you want to turn your anger at the last Hades being selfish, please, feel free to expect yourself to be put in the back of the line."

This quieted everyone.

"Now, as we said, the boat's been sitting for 97 years and it's not in the greatest shape, so if any carpenter or boat-maker is out there, we could really use your help." He said. Immediately, a graying man stepped from the crowd. Finn was now at his side, he noticed (funny how he disappeared when people were angry) and nudged Bellamy.

"This is Greg Sanders. Been here for about eighty years." He said.

"Well," Bellamy said, extending a hand, "You don't look a day over 100." He said, and there was a ripple of laughter across the crowd as people began to relax. He was about to turn when a small projectile was launched at his legs, and he felt himself stumble. It took him a grand moment to realize it wasn't a thing, it was a person.

"Bellamy!"

"Charlotte?" Bellamy felt his words come up uneasy in his throat, staying in his mouth like marbles, heavy and jumbled. His heart fluttered, and there was just something about her, something he couldn't put into words not then not now. Parental, maybe? Older brother? He didn't know, but looking at the girl clasping him so tightly, he felt his whole world soften.

"It's you." She breathed, stepping back. When she did, Bellamy saw the blood dripping down her face and flinched. Although he knew there was little he could do, he still felt compelled as he crouched down to her level, wiping some of it off with his finger, "My parents are here. And I've apologize to Wells." She whispered, and Bellamy just stared at her, "But I was always upset that I wouldn't get to say sorry to you, see you again."

"You don't have to apologize." Bellamy murmured, his voice thin and tight, "Not to me. Never to me." He shook his head, "Is Murphy here?" He questioned, looking to Finn. If he was, he was going to go up and probably punch him and warn him to stay clear from Charlotte, or he would try out his smiting power.

"No." Finn scowled, "Everyone that left with him and Jaha except Jaha are, though. Guess they made it to the Promised Land, just those too." He sounded bitter.

"That son of a bitch would survive. We tried to kill him more times than I can count. Seems he's immortal too." Bellamy meant it as a joke.

"Hey, maybe there are still gods around." Finn said, taking it seriously.

"Ug. No, I couldn't co-exist with Murphy like that." Bellamy shuddered, standing and about to- against his better judgment- invite Charlotte to come and keep him company with the boat building when he saw a figuring shoving its way through the people.

He had hardly time to recognize the face as it came forward, until they were inches away from each other. Bellamy, although he should have been expecting it, felt the world falling away from him in that moment.

"Mom?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I totally feel like Raven would have been the type to read Harry Potter (she probably emphasizes with Harry) and therefore Finn has read them too. But of course Bellamy wouldn't have read those- pfft who would want to read about wizards when you could read about gladiators of course?
> 
> I was really excited also to write the part with Charlotte just because the relationship between her and Bellamy was always so adorable, as short as it as, and he seemed to feel awful about it for AGES after.
> 
> One last thing, that I get a lot of inspiration for this from the Abandon Trilogy by Meg Cabot. It's really awesome. You should check it out!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, it's been a bit since I updated, especially since the first five chapters came out in such short of a time. But I do have many other projects to work on, but I'm glad I had the inspiration to write this chapter. To those that wanted more Bellarke interaction, I do really so hope this will sustain you until the next chapter ;)

Bellamy was more than the sort of distracted Clarke was going to allow. It was further than the tired staying up all night, even more than walking miles away to a strange walk face, and even more distracted than having to return and keep yourself from wanting to take naps. No, Bellamy was far more distracted than that. Clarke was going to let him wander off into the woods; that much, she could internalize. But at this point? Nope, she was getting to the bottom of it.

"It's not that deep," Bellamy grunted, his hand flinching as she poured and cleaned out the ugly and bleeding palm she held in an iron grip.

"Not that deep my ass, Blake." Clarke said, pulling it back toward her again, "It's still bleeding everywhere! You need stitches."

Bellamy's face whitened, and his eyes narrowed, "That can't be necessary."

"Don't worry, it won't hurt as much as slicing your hand open." She said, "Which, by the way, Raven told me before you even got here was because you were staring off into space." Bellamy flinched under her harsh tone. She washed out her now red-stained cloth, shaking her head as she went over to the small compartment to see how much thread they had left.

"It could have happened to anyone."

"No, everyone else sleeps well every night. You hardly do that, and it's never been a problem before, so what the heck is eating at you, Bell?" Clarke tired, looking at him hard, rolling the spool around in her hand.

Bellamy looked away, his jaw locking.

"I saw…my mom." He admitted softly. He looked up, for a brief second, and Clarke could tell he was trying to gauge if she was going to laugh in his face or scoff at him. Instead, she only frowned slightly, her lips tugging toward the floor.

"Like…in a dream?" She asked, lighting a candle for a moment or two to sterilize the needle. Bellamy watched her every move, now completely wide-awake.

"More intense than a dream." Bellamy answered vaguely, and Clarke tilted her head. She wasn't sure how much she believed him, but this strange new world they lived in had many surprises. It could have been anything. In all honesty, the thought buzzing through the white noise in her head, she had seen her father that one time and that had felt as real as ever.

"You know," Clarke sat, speaking softly, pouring a bit of alcohol over his hand, ignoring his sharp hiss of pain and holding his hand steady as she pierced his skin, trying not to hurt him too much, "When we ate those nuts and all hallucinated, I saw my dad. And it felt so…" She stabbed through the other side, a bit more forcefully than intended, "Real. Whether it was or not, I suppose that would cause anyone to loose focus."

Bellamy chewed on what she said for a bit, neither spoke as she skillfully and cautiously pulled the thread through his hands, pulling the puckered skin together.

"What did he tell you?" He asked, and Clarke jumped a bit, stabbing him outside where she meant.

"Sorry!"

"It's fine," Bellamy licked his lips, his hand twitching at the poke, nothing compared to the actually punctuation, "You don't have to tell me, if it's really private stuff."

"It is, but I don't mind. He asked me, or I guess my conscious, asked me to forgive my mom. For killing him, for sending us to die, all of it." Clarke shrugged, trying to play it off, "But I mean, I was pretty out of it."

"Did you believe him?" Bellamy asked, and Clarke looked at him, his tone as if it had really and truly been her father and not a cruel mirage gone too soon.

"No. I was upset. Forgiveness takes a long time." She said, and Bellamy hummed in agreement.

"My mom told me she's proud of me, of what I've done. That she has forgiven me for what we-I- did to survive." He said, offering up his own experience without prompting.

"Oh?" Clarke asked, "Isn't that what you told me once?" She teased, trying to make him laugh, because he seemed to bleak and cold right now.

"I did. But I'm not sure I believe her now. How could I? No one wants a murderer for a son." He kicked the leg of the table, causing it to shake.

Clarke's eyebrows knitted together, looking at Bellamy. She half wondered if he had stared at the cave wall for so long he'd hallucinated, or if he'd eaten something, or what 'more than a dream' had been? She wasn't going to push it, because obviously when her father been dreamt up of her mind, it was indeed a way of her own body dealing with the issues she'd had at the time. Bellamy was obviously deeply concentrated on this thoughts- that he was a killer- to the point he needed a comforting figure to tell him otherwise.

Clarke also knew if he let these thoughts grow, it would be like a nasty fungi, and soon it would overtake him. These thoughts were not thoughts meant to be alone to simmer silently.

"Bellamy, we're leaders. Almost everything you did wrong, I did too." She said.

"So you've forgiven yourself?"

"No, but I have to accept one day, it will come back and I'll pay my prices for it. Raven thinks I already have, but it's not enough. Not for a long-shot." She shook her head, "But I'm also not afraid to talk about it. Everyone else did things too they're not proud of, no one is going to judge you."

Bellamy's shoulders slumped, "Jasper will."

"One out of a hundred." Clarke weakly tried to defend. Staring at Bellamy, looking so miserable, Clarke stood suddenly, "Stay here." She instructed forcefully, and Bellamy jumped a little at her tone.

She went outside and informed Miller- who was working with nearly all of the camp to construct winter housing, which Bellamy's cut might be infected and he needed to take the day off. Miller hardly batted an eye, assuring Clarke he wanted a healthy helper over a sickly one. She didn't even feel bad about lying…Bellamy was sick, in a way. Not mentally or physically but just hurting to the point it made you sick.

"Come on, you have a day off." Clarke said when she returned to the medical area, grabbing her jacket from over a chair.

"Clarke…" Bellamy's humor had returned to his voice, "What are you doing?"

"Fixing my patient. Now grab your coat and follow me. That's an order from your doctor." She added when he didn't move.

Bellamy rolled his eyes, "Okay, okay." He held up his hands in a surrender motion, "You win. I didn't really want to go back and build stuff anyway." He shrugged.

He snagged his jacket from his tent, and they slipped out the back. The air was crisp, and it frosted Clarke's throat as she inhaled deeply. It was so fresh, so freeing. Although now she couldn't recall the way the air tasted on the air, but she knew that in comparison this was so much better. The air in the Ark was musty, old air- air that until now- seemed perfectly fine, but Clarke never wanted to go back there again.

"Uagh," Bellamy made a strange noise in the back of his throat, "They didn't warn us that the air hurts you down here." He coughed.

"It's nice." Clarke said sharply, putting her hands on her hips, but she grinned, "Octavia would agree with me."

"Octavia spent her whole life living in a box in the floor. She'd think literally anything was better than that. You could put her in a cage hanging from the ground, and she'd tell you it's better and more pleasant than living on the Ark." He scoffed.

"You know, that's why I like your sister." Clarke decided, waving a finger around, "She's literally excited by everything. Unlike a certain someone I know." She said, nudging his side. He rubbed where she'd jabbed him, looking around.

"So, Dr. Griffin, where exactly are you taking your injured patient?" He asked.

"Well," She said, and realized she didn't quite know where she was going. She couldn't take him near Mt. Weather, for fairly obvious reasons. The drop ship was a bad idea too, since there was still burnt bodies everywhere. The cliffs near it would be pretty bad too, because of Charlotte. She couldn't take him near where she'd hallucinated about her father, because he'd killed Dax there. She also couldn't take him anywhere near where Grounders were or where the Reapers had roamed; but Clarke didn't really want to go there either for more than just the reasons Bellamy knew.

"Well," She repeated, "We're wandering." She decided confidently.

"Great." Bellamy shoved his hands into his pockets, "If we die out here, I hope you get your 'Dr.' revoked." He said, almost laughing, but then his face suddenly turned stony-cold. Something had triggered it. Death?

"Are you afraid to die, Bellamy?" Clarke wondered out loud, coking her head, "It makes sense, a bit. You're jumpy around the subject lately." She realized, looking back the last week or so.

"That's rich." Bellamy rolled his eyes, "Afraid to die…"

"You still haven't answered my question." Clarke said, "Let's decided to be honest on this adventure, okay?"

Bellamy didn't agree, but sighed, "No Clarke, I'm not afraid of death. Not yet." He gave an exhale of breath almost like a laugh, as if something was minor humorous to him.

"Oh," Clarke shrugged, "It's a common fear."

"Not mine."

"As we've established." Clarke nodded in agreement.

They walked a bit more in silence.

"Isn't this pretty?" Clarke asked suddenly, "The forest?" It was turning into a season previously unknown to Clarke- well, every season had been unknown- and it was called 'Autumn' by the old earth dwellers. Nothing, no picture nor paintings of it, could have prepared her for the visual beauty right now. She'd been preoccupied in her camp she'd hadn't the time to even glance over the walls.

The trees were all shades of fire; reds, oranges, yellows, and even some burn looking brown ones. It littered the floor like a path for them, and it gave the most satisfying crunch when she stepped through a particularly sepia-colored pile. The earth smelled musty, earthy, in a way she only experienced when she walked past some of the potted plants in the Agro Station or what Marcus' mother had watered meticulously.

She looked back, waiting for Bellamy's answer, and as she did, it seemed the tree directly above him decided to shed all its leaves at once, and they all rained down on top of Bellamy's head. His black curls clung to the browning edges of the leaves, creating a crown of foliage upon his head. Clarke didn't even try to stifle her laughter, and Bellamy gave her a small grin as he began to pick them from his scalp.

"I guess that's why they also called this season Fall, huh?" He asked, and Clarke nodded. She stood on her toes to grab a leaf he'd yet to get to, twirling stem of the red maple in her fingers.

"You would be correct. Now, c'mon. More meandering left before our adventure is done, Bellamy." She said, grabbing his hand without even thinking about it.

After a bit, Clarke heard the crunching behind her pause. She looked over to see Bellamy glancing around at his surroundings in curiosity, turning in a circle a couple times, as if trying to make a map inside his mind.

"This is new area." He said guardedly.

"Erm, yeah. Adventure, right?" She questioned, although now fully thinking thorough her choices- like what if there was another really dangerous animal out here they didn't know about, or wandered into a different grounder's territory- was not as convinced in her words as she should have been. Bellamy shielded his eyes from the sun, looking back toward him toward the towering shadow of Mt. Weather. He turned back to her, and she was sure he understood why they went here over a more familiar and safe place.

"Sure, Princess. Good to see I bring out the best in you." He teased, "Normal Clarke would be hissing at my in fury for even taking a step off of documented land."

"I would not!" Clarke stuttered, "I can have fun, you know." She said, grinning wide, "I'm so much fun."

"What about the first days on earth? You were not fun then." Bellamy countered. Clarke bit her cheek, sighing.

"I was being practical. We all would have died if I hadn't been, you know." She said irately. Bellamy patted her shoulder.

"Fun and practical. That doesn't exist." He shook his head.

Clarke was tempted to fight back, but realized that a fun person would let it go. So she did. Bellamy's eyebrows rose in slight surprise; she was glad to have tripped him up. Instead, she pointed to a smooth rock in a patch of the quickly fading sunlight.

"Let's go up there." She decided, and Bellamy helped her climb up. By the time they both made it, laying upon the cool stone, the sky was almost indigo with the oncoming night.

They lay there, catching their breath, listening to the crickets and frogs and the whole symphony of sounds that was so weird to them. It still surprised Clarke; there had been noise plenty on the Ark, but it was so predictable, so unnatural. The hiss of air escaping a pipe, the clanking of metal things moving, the groan of the walls and boards as they traveled through space. Some nights, she even missed it.

"Did you ever learn about the Greek Gods, Clarke?" Bellamy asked quite abruptly, and Clarke frowned.

"Not really. I mean, I picked up who Zeus is, but…was it taught in our school's literature?" She asked. Bellamy made a sound in the back of his throat.

"No, a crying shame about it too. That's good literature, you know." He said very firmly.

"I take it you enjoy the stories." Clarke deduced, and Bellamy gave a hollow laugh.

"Enjoy? Those stories saved me, Clarke. Kept a little boy with a sister that wasn't supposed to exist sane behind walls when my mother would be anywhere but there. We didn't have many books, but my grandfather had Greek myths and all, so we had those." He said, and Clarke rolled onto her side, staring at him. It was not like Bellamy to open up, talk about his past so candidly. Most of the time it was firmly shut from her view, and she found it uniquely interesting to hear what it was like. His experience was truly one of a kind; no one else on the history of the Ark had ever kept a second child hidden for as long as Octavia did. Most illicit children were found hours after birth, and they weren't merely locked away as Octavia was. It was the part of their past culture that Clarke abhorred, although she understood the reasons.

It still sickened her to think about.

"I had a lot of books, but no Greek Myths." Clarke thought back to her own family's large bookshelf by Ark standards, although Clarke had never much liked reading all too much. It was her father that had enjoyed it for leisure. Clarke had much preferred the strategically game of chess that Wells had taught her.

"Do you know the constellations?" He asked. Clarke nodded. Constellations were a standard class on the Ark, especially they were so easy to study and see, now closer than ever.

"Well, although they're all Latin names, the Romans pilfered the stories of the Greek. A lot of Greek stories are also in Latin, and so on. A lot of constellations have stories to them. Most of the counterparts of the two are almost the same, there's only a few cultural differences between certain aspects. Ovid, he told stories about them both, sort of."

"Like what kind of stories?" Clarke questioned.

"Well, there's the story of Ursa Major and Ursa Minor." Bellamy said, extending his finger to point to the two sets of stars.

"The dippers." Clarke supplied from her long past classes, and Bellamy frowned.

"A colloquial term." He shook his head, "They're really supposed to be bears. Although, from what I know, bears didn't have tales that long. But I suppose they took liberties when they were mapping out stars to look like things."

"It doesn't look like bears at all." Clarke said, squinting.

"Not the point." Bellamy sighed.

"So what's their story, then?" Clarke said, pulling herself to a sitting position and pulling her knees to her chest.

"You really want to hear it?" Bellamy asked, turning his head, but from his eyes, Clarke could tell he was so terribly excited at the prospect of sharing it. She could imagine Octavia couldn't have been the most enthusiastic listener, especially when she couldn't see any of these stars herself.

"Of course." She assured.

"Okay, I'm a little rusty…hmm. So there was this really beautiful girl named Callisto. Jupiter- or Zeus as you know him- fell in love with her instantly. Just so you know, almost all of the stories Ovid wrote stem from Zeus wanting to sleep with someone. I'm not joking, stop giving me that look. So he liked Callisto, but his wife Hera- who is basically just irrational like any girl and upset with him all the time- Ow! That hurt, you hit hard!- fine not 'irrational' became jealous, even though Zeus hadn't done anything yet. But then Callisto was pregnant, and it was pretty reasonably Zeus's so I suppose her anger was founded. In response, after Callisto gave birth, she turned her into a bear so she'd never be pretty again. Her son, Arcus, grew up to be a hunter. One day, he came across his mother and she was so excited to see her son that she ran up to him, forgetting she was still a bear. He was of course; shitting his pants at this point, and tried to shoot an arrow at her. Zeus interfered so that his son nor his woman of the week weren't hurt, and turned Arcus into a bear as well. Fearing Hera would like killing them or something 'irrational' like that, he grabbed them by their tails and threw them up into the sky. Oh! That's why their tails are long, because when he threw them, the stretched and yep, that's it. So they were put into the sky as constellations. Hera was still pissed off, so she cursed them to never be able to touch water, because in the day the story was written, the stars never went below the horizon or touched the sea. But at least they're together." Bellamy ended, shrugging.

He looked at Clarke, waiting meekly for a response. Clarke nodded thoughtfully. It was a highly enjoyable story, and even Bellamy's snide comments interwoven made her want to laugh out loud. He was a good storyteller, a rare thing that she was surprised she hadn't seen before. He could easily have sat the entire group down and regaled them with some of these myths he knew so well. It might have even been a nice change from dying.

She noticed he was looking at her, and she smiled.

"I think it's nice." She said, although it was much more than that, "Tragic, a bit, but nice."

"It's one of the only nice ones." Bellamy snorted, turning back, his vulnerability shrinking away, "Most the rest end up dead or worse in those stories."

"Worse?" Clarke questioned.

"One day, I'll tell you a worse one. Like the story of these birds- that one's purely Roman, but quite the story nevertheless. I enjoyed Roman stories too, but Greek myths? Those were just…I can't describe it."

"Who was your favorite god?" Clarke asked.

Bellamy looked thoughtful for a couple moments. He had a wry smile of his face when he replied.

"Hades. God of the underworld." He said, a grin that indicated something that Clarke didn't know. She couldn't alter her reaction.

"Like dead people? My gosh, that's...morbid." She struggled to fully articulate her reaction, and then clamped her mouth shut. Her response had been unkind, almost. But Bellamy seemed unaffected, as if she hadn't quite spoken.

"He's a misunderstood guy, the more you hear about him. The world that collapsed thought of him as a bad guy, this suave villain, where in reality he was just…odd. I don't know, he wasn't all too ferocious, and he was really particular about certain things, like a person that collects stamps or something, but it was the underworld he was dealing with." Bellamy continued, a little softer, almost uncertainly, "I…I'm like him. I see people, Clarke. People that I shouldn't see. Like F…like Atom."

Clarke could have guessed whom the 'F' was he was about to say, but she didn't understand it. Not one bit. Atom was dead, so was Finn. In the ground, blood gone, no pulse dead. She'd killed both of them, too, both with knives, both for mercy. So she should have known better than anyone there was no way that they were around anymore.

She looked at Bellamy and he gave a small smile and a shrug.

She frowned; perhaps he meant he saw the spirits of them, the way people were left behind. She saw Finn too; she saw him in things that were said by others, when she looked at Raven, or when she saw the watch he'd gotten back to her. She saw Atom when she saw a short and stubby knife, when she saw the kid that had shared a cell window with him, or when she was taking apart seats and found his name etched into the metal of one. She saw them too, she saw everyone. But Bellamy had sounded so sincere about it, not just said what she'd thought, but that he saw people like Finn like Hades, a guy who ruled those that had died. But he was smiling, indicating lightness to his words.

A thought suddenly came to her mind, and Clarke couldn't help but laugh.

"You see dead people, Bellamy." She said, and giggled behind her hand. At first, Bellamy looked confused, even stricken.

"Come on! You know, the movie on the Ark about the kid who sees dead people and his doctor turns out to have been a ghost all along?" She said, nudging him, "You have to have seen it! I think you would have loved it!"

There was a very small amount of films from the world before on the Ark, all saved by the archive keepers, relics brought onto it by the original people. There was only about 250 movies and a couple T.V shows, most missing episodes or whole seasons, which when spanned out over someone's whole life was not as much as it seemed, and Clarke had seen almost all the movies there was. She probably wouldn't have seen the one she'd just referenced, but Wells (the jerk; he liked the scary ones) insisted she watch it. It had been fun for her, up until the dead people started appearing.

"I've seen it." Bellamy said coldly. She was now really confused about his turn of personality.

"It's funny, Bellamy. A joke." She nudged him, "Are you…upset."

In a moment, Bellamy had begun to laugh, "I'm not upset, it's just- oh, never mind. But you're right, Clarke. It really is funny. I guess I do." He agreed, running his fingers through his hair as his chest vibrated with his deep chuckles. Clarke beamed.

"I told you I could be fun."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See! Not only is this story fun to read, but also educational! You need some learnin' during this summer break, eh?
> 
> In other wonderful Bellarke news to all my wonderful Bellarke readers, I actually published a Bellarke one-shot like less than a week ago. It's pretty long (15,000 ish words) in a modern AU inspired by the lyrics from Anna Kendrick's version of 'Cups'. So check that out, and review/kudo it if you enjoy it. It's called "Harry Potter Gives you a False Expectation of Train Compartments."
> 
> Also don't forget to review/kudo this story :)


	7. Chapter 7

Bellamy did something he never had done before; he visited Hell during the day.

Not that it was a conscious thing, as if he had wanted to see if it was different during the day. The consul decided that with so much work on everyone's shoulders, everyone should get a day off in turn. It had started when Clarke had begun to cough. She had insisted she could still work (even though she hadn't slept a good sleep in days) and had ended up falling ill. Her mom had pointed out to Kane, who was firm in his opinion against the idea of 'days off', that without a day to rest, more people would fall ill. There were a lot of things here to be careful of; on the Ark they'd had it laughably easily in comparison to the coming danger of winter.

It was finally Bellamy's turn off. He saw Clarke watching him as he left the camp with narrowed eyes, although it wasn't an unusual thing for people to do. They hadn't seen a grounder tribe in weeks, and other than dangerous animals, their guns had been unused in recent times. If only life were so simple as that; no more trouble. Instead, the air had only grown colder and now none of the trees had any leaves, unless they were pine trees. It unnerved Bellamy in a way he couldn't describe.

But it was his day off in which he found himself back down in his personal Hell, pun intended. Finn greeted him. He had seemed to sense his coming and goings like a strange Bellamy-bloodhound. Decked out with a clipboard and a couple pens, he stood at the foot of the path. If Finn had to be his secretary, or the go-between the dead and himself, he was going to be darn organized about it.

"You're here early. I think." Finn said, frowning, "Or am I just crazy?"

"No, it's noon." Bellamy sighed, his tone closing the topic from further questions. His eyes immediately began to swivel around, and when he saw his target, his face split into a grin, "Mom." He breathed in relief.

He had to admit, he was a little selfish about this whole thing. He'd been five when Octavia was born, but a kid can't remember anything until they're at least six. His memories of a time not dictated by the preservation of an illegal sister was non-existent. So yes, he enjoyed this time he had with her that was just about them. There was no sister to compete with, no stress of trying to do odd jobs to keep them all fed or worse, no worries here. It was odd, in that way. Death had freed his mother.

Yet it pained him, for if she'd stayed alive just a bit longer…she might have made it to the earth above. She wouldn't have had to pretend Bellamy was her only child anymore.

And it wasn't that he never thought about Octavia wanting to know mom, it was he didn't know how. He didn't know if you could bring the living down without killing them. There was also the question if she'd even believe him, much less go down to a place her boyfriend was afraid of. In the long run, he told himself, it was more logical to just enjoy the time here with her.

They talked for a bit, before he heard Finn's annoyed grunting behind him, and he sighed, turning. "Work calls." He rolled his eyes. When he approached Finn, he saw his disapproving eyes, "What?"

"I told you-,"

"Not to get attached? I'm not, relax Collins." He scoffed, "I know she has to go across the river in due time." He said. Finn repressed a long exhale of breath, at the point- because he was dead- if only out of habit than actual need.

"Speaking of the boat," Finn motioned for Bellamy to follow as he ticked off something on his list, "Shouldn't you check on it?"

"I was getting around to it." Bellamy rolled his eyes, "Ah! Greg." He greeted the kind old man with a pat on the back.

"Mr. Blake." He said, and Bellamy began to open his mouth to insist to call him Bellamy, but was cut off, "The boat is almost done." He said with pride.

"A lot better than I could have done." Bellamy said with an appreciative whistle, looking at the bones of the boat the man had made, "Need any more tools?"

"No, I think at this point, I should be good. Besides, Finn is able to retrieve me tools I may need when you are not here." Greg shrugged. Bellamy winced.

"I wish you'd tell me. Finn leaves a trail of blood everywhere he goes. Believe me when I tell you those floors up there are not to be stained by something like blood, house of Hades or not." Bellamy said and Finn gave a mumble behind him.

"here we go again…" he said under his breath. Bellamy turned.

"They're expensive floors, Finn. So unless you carry a bucket around, I don't want to pull someone else from the crowd out to clean up after you. Now the boat-" He turned back around.

"Can I paint it?"

Bellamy just about jumped out of his skin.

"Christ!" he swore as he turned around, looking with a slight scowl at Charlotte. She had the uncanny ability to appear next to him without any sound at any given moment, "I need to put a goddamn bell on you."

"Can I paint the boat?" Charlotte questioned again.

"I don't even know if I have paint up there." Bellamy scratched the back of his neck, "But sure, whatever. You can paint the boat."

Charlotte beamed at him before Bellamy heard her mother calling her away. She bounced back to the gathered people with pep to her step.

"You're such a softie to her." Finn guffawed, shaking his head, "Father-like."

"She has a father." Bellamy resented that characterization of himself was 'father' instead of 'leader'. It wasn't the first time someone had described him like that. It may be that father and leader fell under the same character, but the former made him seem less stern, more paternal. Then again, Clarke was the undeniable mother hen of the group, so…

Bellamy looked away from where she'd left him, "I just…I feel like I need to make things up to her, you know? It's sort of my fault she's dead."

"That's what it is." Finn said, unbelieving, "So- this boat will fit five people, plus the boat master. And I already asked Greg, he said he'd prefer to move on."

"Who wouldn't?" Bellamy gave a long huff. There were many jobs that had once been taken care of by the many gods, spirits, or other immortal beings of the Greek era. But as their stories and popularity had died, so had they. This left Bellamy with a monumental list of places that someone needed to fill; some more in desperate need than others. The last time he'd been down, he'd talked a 'wanted' sign on the side of the cave, and left it to Finn to sort out and conduct job applications.

Why anyone would want to stay behind and work these jobs for an eternity was unfathomable to Bellamy. If he'd known what that book did, if given the choice he would have rejected Hades' role, but alas it was what it was now. But it didn't mean that maybe others shared his sentiments about this afterlife. He hoped; even as a God now, he couldn't do all the jobs at once, even if he was down here full time.

"We have some promising ones." Finn said, flipping a couple pages, "For each. I mean, there are a lot of people down here, you know. Should I bring them to you to make the final choice?"

"Yeah, but later today. I have some other stuff to attend to." Bellamy waved him off, but a rush of relief settled in his bones. He had been terrified that no one would want to do any of the jobs, and he'd be shit out of luck, "How's the crowd, in general?"

Bellamy didn't have time to listen to everyone's stupid gripes as it was and left Finn to also take complaints. It was a job he handed to the boy with a slight smirk. It was an awful thing to be in front of, and there was no person he would rather have doing it than Finn Collins.

"Contented, now that things are moving forward." Finn said, "And people are splitting off into groups, now that the reality of the afterlife, the real one, is upon them." He said, and as Bellamy looked over, he did indeed notice that they were much more segregated than before.

"Mhh." Bellamy made a noise to show he'd heard.

"They do have some recurring questions, though." Finn said, looking up, "The main one being how are you going to ferry people across?"

"On a boat Finn; thought you were smarter than this." Bellamy tapped Finn's head, motioning back to where Greg was working.

"No, like in what order."

"The order they died...?" Bellamy gave him an odd look, "As if there was any other fair way."

"Well, I mean, there are some good points. Like families, or husbands and wives that died years after each other. There are some couples that have been reunited for the last thirty or something years, and now you're going to tear them apart?"

Bellamy pinched the bridge of his nose. Finn, arguably, had worthwhile points. Points Bellamy didn't want to have to face. It was times like these he hated being a leader, the choices like this that were bad either way.

"And also, people are wondering if they want to stay behind to wait for a loved one to join them, can they?"

Obviously, in a more fluid place, Bellamy's answer would have been 'no'. But people were used to being stalled here, as it was, and thus things were different.

"Sure for the second one, as long as there is a legitimate person they're waiting for. If they want to live down here forever, they have to join up on the job board." He pointed to the post above his head, "For the first…" Bellamy pressed his lips together.

"Families or loved ones can opt to go over together, but they need it written down in paper. You should do it, or maybe we should get an official secretary? You're going across eventually, and they have to go at the death spot of the most recent death. It's not fair for people to jump forward."

Finn's chin moved down at the pace of a snail. Bellamy couldn't tell if he agreed or not. "About as fair as I could expect, but you know people will argue it."

"People would argue anything. I could tell them the best news in the world and there would be some idiots offended."

Finn was quiet for a moment. "So…the boat will be ready soon. We go across and that's it?"

"Not quite." Bellamy raised a finger, pulling out the handbook from a pocket in his jacket that seemed to be made to hold it close to him. Then again, if they wanted to have a serious conversation about fate, it would go much further than a mere jacket pocket. Bellamy would have to argue it a greater power made like that because he was always going to be this new Hades and all that other crap. So he didn't go there, because it hurt his brain.

"So we're in the waiting area, I guess you could say, the loading dock. As far as I can tell, apart from the apocalypse, one of the greatest times of people stuffed in here was around World War II. This guy had like three boats and three ferry man and worked his ass off it seems, but even then, no one milled around more than a week or so. We're already in a extremely unusual situation. The dock used to be there, and that will need to be rebuilt too- mark that down to find someone to do that, would you?" He said mid-though, tapping Finn's clipboard, "Anyway, people load there and see that place way over there? That tiny speck of white? That is, in a sense, where 'Hell' sort of starts. It has paths to the possible places you could go, and the only way to get judged is by me."

"Shit, you have to be there." Finn said, "You're not even down here as it is."

"I actually have a life, you know." Bellamy said, the winced, "Bad pun."

"Damn right. So, okay, we go really fast taking people across?"

"Finn, come here." Bellamy sighed, sliding the book back into his pocket. He went to the water's edge, looking at the sad assortment of forgotten relics floating past, "Take this." He handed a long stick to Finn, "Now, pull that through the water, will you?"

Finn, looking at Bellamy like he was mad, complied. He frowned at the pressure against him the water fought, pressing the stick forward.

"What the hell?" He said, "It's like dragging something through syrup!"

"Yeah, it's no fast boat ride across. It also has to be circled seven times otherwise you don't get to the other end, to make things more difficult. " Bellamy said, "Why's it heavy? Weighed down by sadness or some other weird metaphorical stuff." He said, anticipating Finn's next question, who closed his mouth at his second additive.

"Greg should have built a literal ferry then." Finn threw the stick to the ground in frustration.

"Nope, wouldn't have worked. There's a spot there, see those rocks? That's where Cerberus would sit and stuff, the three-headed dog. The pass is pretty narrow-I gave Greg the size. Made it much longer and you just wouldn't have been able to paddle that many people."

"Well this is literally the most inconvenient set up I've ever heard of."

"It's Hell, Finn." Bellamy gave him an aggravated look, "It's not supposed to be easy or reasonable. Do you have the list of the deaths by the way?"

Finn fished for a large stack of papers, nodding. Bellamy had instructed Finn to make a detailed list of everyone's names, the year they died, and cause of death. Bellamy held it, whistling at the weight of the stack.

"Some of the grounders couldn't write their names. It was like pulling teeth to get them to cooperate, you know." Finn said, as if expecting more than a slight nod of appreciation in his direction.

"It's your job, dude. One that I think you offered, in the beginning." Bellamy said with a dry scoff. Bellamy still felt secure having the list. Even so, most could be figured out by cross referencing their cause of death. Finn was looking at him with slight expectation, yet trying not to look eager for another instruction. Did Bellamy think that Finn enjoyed being his job monkey? Likely not, but it beat doing nothing every day, like the majority of the people waiting.

"Look, I'm going to go up to my palace or whatever and check in on Maya. I'll try to get some paper work or something for those that want to wait behind or go with their loved ones. Maybe just lines, I'm not sure." Bellamy chewed his lip; he didn't know the amount of loose paper they had at their disposal. If push came to shove, he'd rather not write over a precious book, when they could also manage without it.

"Sure, Bellamy." Finn sighed, walking away, "Because I have a watch that works down here, because time goes on." Bellamy decided to ignore his sass, and turned to go up to his palace.

He went up the stairs, through the garden (glancing at the cracked stones and over-grown sidewalk), and through the brighter warmth of the room to his private library. He saw the candles flickering, even though this place had no sort of day or night, and breathed in the warmth this place exuded.

"Being careful not to burn any of my books?" He asked Maya, who sat cross-legged reading through a large tome with great caution to read each word, and jumped at his entrance. When she turned, Bellamy swallowed hard, trying not to look away or flinch, for the awful burns of death by radiation were present across her once pretty face. The churning guilt overthrew him for a moment, and his whole body stiffened.

"Bellamy." Maya smiled at him, "Please don't look at me like that." She asked, and Bellamy looked away, bashful.

"Erm, anything?" He asked. It had been on his previous visit a couple weeks or so ago when he'd been flipping through a book and found a solution to the current living situation problem back up on earth. They didn't have the ability or time to make separate living for everyone, and they had been building with the hope an idea would appear. Then, he'd seen an archaic drawing of what old Natives did when they were at the point his group was thousands of years ago. He'd brought back the idea of a large structure that everyone slept in together, with fires throughout to keep them warm, like an incubator.

While there was some general groaning about a 'lack of personal space', the council ignored it. Kane told everyone (in much more professional words) to 'grow the hell up and shut yer traps' and 'didn't you care about surviving the winter?' Of course, this shut people up after that. By next winter they'd have singular homes built after just one season of uncomfortable closeness. Now with a vision and plan, they'd pushed the building into overdrive.

So then, Bellamy had questioned what else might lie in these books as for useful information. He'd picked Maya out of the crowd, half-once again feeling guilty, but half because he'd heard from Jasper that she'd had an acute appreciation for art and history. He had been sure she'd treat his books with utmost care. She also wasn't bleeding profusely from stab-wounds, and so he also would not have to worry about his books stained by blood.

"Lots." Maya motioned to a whole bookcase now filled with books that hadn't before been there, or at least not all together.

"Wow." Bellamy said, stunned. He didn't even know where to begin looking through them. Maya giggled, seeing his expression.

"Don't worry. I made a list over there about which might be the most helpful in winter, might want to read those first." She said, pointing to a list that Bellamy might have written himself; it was so well documented and organized. Maya had impressed him.

He wished he had time himself to read all these books, which one day he would being immortal and all. Right now, though, it just wasn't plausible to spend all his time down here. The wigwam hadn't been the first idea brought back up to the surface, and he was beginning to think his excuse of 'I remembered it from reading it on the Ark' was drying up. Clarke was already looking at him with suspicion , wondering where he'd gotten the information. If there were any books that survived they should be in the camp, Clarke had pried. Also at this point some of the younger children were under the impression Bellamy had a photographic memory. Neither bode well with him.

But if one or all these books could help him and his group of people survives a harsh winter, should he care at all what others thought of him? He shook his head.

"How's…Jasper?" Maya's question was tentative. Bellamy half-turned toward her, feeling awful for her all over again. Did he dare tell her the truth?

"Recovering." He said with a firm tone, "He's…"He paused, "Still grieving."

Maya's shoulders slumped, and she shook her head. "Stupid Jasper." She murmured, but with a tone of longing, "I'm gone. He shouldn't…I wouldn't want him…He still blames you and Clarke, doesn't he?" She guessed after a moment of studying Bellamy.

Bellamy had found it his own personal responsibility to let Maya and the other victims of Mount Weather, what had occurred down in the control room. It was only fair, and they deserved to hate him. They should hate him. The person that killed them was now passing judgment on their souls and that wasn't fair at all. It was sucky, he agreed. Maya was one of the few that had nodded at the revelation, and forgiven him quicker than he had wanted.

"Yes." Bellamy agreed, "Almost two and a half months and he still does." He wasn't going to deny it.

"He's understandably upset." Maya said, setting a book down, "I think he'll come around though."

"I hope. I couldn't care less about it, maybe I deserve it, but it gets to Clarke. And Monty, my god he hasn't' spoken to him in weeks."

"I never wanted to break up a friendship like that." Maya ran a hand through her hair, "I feel awful."

"You feel awful?" Bellamy scoffed, "That's ridiculous. You're dead, you're far worse off than he is, you do realize."

Maya was quiet. Bellamy exhaled through his nose. "If I could take him down here, I would. But then I'd have to do the same for them all, you know? And I can't…" He broke off, thinking of Octavia, Clarke, Miller, and everyone else who'd lost someone. That was everyone; no one was down on the ground without someone they missed.

"I don't expect special treatment." Maya assured, grabbing another book as she got up to write someone down on the ever-growing list, "I understand. One day he'll die too, as everyone must. I just hope that he's old enough to have grown over this and moved on."

"So you won't be staying around to wait for him, I take it." Bellamy asked. Maya shook her head.

"No. I loved him, but there's my dad and my mom too. I wouldn't want Jasper hanging on the edge waiting for me down here, you know?" She said, "That just wouldn't be reasonable."

Bellamy nodded, although it was hard to tell he'd done so at all. He looked at Maya, biting his lip with thought as he recalled something else he'd meant to ask her. Now, in front of her, he seemed unsure. Maya glanced up to catch his gaze before snapped his sight down, and she sighed.

"What?"

"I have a controversial question to ask you." He said, "Just for my benefit, not like it could change things." He added after a moment, and Maya tilted her head, "So winter is coming and we don't have a lot of supplies or any blankets. None, if I'm being honest. Yet Mount Weather has a lot and we buried all you, but-," He broke off, finding words coming to him with great difficulty.

"But would it be disrespectful?" Maya guessed.

Bellamy nodded. "We've been fighting for weeks about it." He said, wincing. He, even though he'd almost sworn never to go back there, couldn't deny their need for the supplies that Mount Weather had. It was all abandoned, as if waiting for them to pilfer. But were they those sorts of people? Pirates? Scavengers?

"Well," Maya gave a humorless laugh, "We're all dead. It's not like we need it. Disrespectful? Or, survival?" She questioned. Bellamy bit the inside of his cheeks.

"Thanks, once again, not like I could go back and tell them what you said." He reiterated, "But it helps me with my choice. We're voting on it tomorrow."

"I hope you do choose to. Someone deserves to use it." Maya shifted through a pile of books, grabbing one that she had bookmarked to a specific page. "Speaking of controversial issues…" She plopped the book in front of Bellamy and he leaned over to read the page. He checked the cover. Uses of Herbs. He looked again.

"Tansy?" He questioned, not following. Maya tapped the page.

"Contraceptive, if made into tea in the right way. And, in extreme cases…can abort unwanted children."

A shiver went up Bellamy's spine. No one had said anything back at camp about this, even though it was such a concern. He hadn't even thought about the possibility that children could be brought into the occasion. Yet, now that Maya laid it out in front of him, it was so clear that he should have been considering this…and he saw why she would assume it to be controversial.

On one hand, with their numbers so few, shouldn't any they welcome any children to make their camp stronger, larger? Repopulate their group, which more than two-thirds of which had died on the way down? Then again, the grand majority of their people was currently under the age of 25 and most were delinquents, or not ready at all to be parents. Was it worth repopulating to force a mere child to go through a pregnancy resulting of a mistake, when most of the people he knew were, at the core, immature and child-like?

He worried that if he brought this to Kane or Abbey, they'd want the former, and do away with it. Clarke, he realized, he should bring it to Clarke. She was a Doctor of the People, understood their friends, and would use it in a responsible way.

"It can be poisonous, if done without proper knowledge, which is why it is vital to be careful when making the tea. The instructions are here, and they're not suggestions." Maya brought him back to the present, tapping the page with ferocity.

"Yes, I would hate to have to greet someone down here after making that mistake," Bellamy agreed with a humorless laugh. He set the book by the door so he wouldn't forget it, "How long do you think I've been in here with you?" He asked. Maya shrugged.

He was well aware there was no perception of time down here. He realized his half-hour instruction to Finn had been more to spite him than anything else. Even so, he bid her good-bye, and she did seem relived to get back to reading uninterrupted. He walked outside to see Finn strolling up to him.

"They're all waiting, Bellamy." He said, nodding to a shuffling line of people in the courtyard.

"Are they arranged by job?" He asked. Finn shot him a look.

"What am I? Incompetent?"

"Well," Bellamy murmured under his breath, "I suppose…start sending them in." He shrugged. Finn handed him some papers.

"They're in order. Even so, if they're mixed up, you can just look at the cause of death and figure it out." Finn said, "I'm going back down, now."

"Have fun." Bellamy called out to him, and Finn gave a huff of annoyance.

Bellamy went to a small room outside of the rest of the house, near the courtyard, and called to the first one to come inside. The list he compiled of needed jobs was small, yet a perfect fit for his needs. He'd combed through the journal with care to see which helpers the other Hades had employed, and which deities that existed in the ancient times they'd done away with. For example, the Furies were long gone, something Bellamy had no intention of bring back. The personifications of ways to die (like old age, disease, or fear) that hovered outside the gates were also gone. This pleased Bellamy as well. The creatures that had once taunted the newly dead had been done away with. It was staying that way because Bellamy didn't know where he could find a chimera or a centaur even if he so wanted to. The elm of lost dreams or something had died eons ago, and having a gardener wasn't high on Bellamy's list of priorities. Melione, whose songs drove those to madness, didn't sound like a pleasant addition down here. And Cerberus? Well, Bellamy wanted a three-headed dog, but that was also out of the cards.

There were also just random gods or goddess that hand hung around, like Nyx, that didn't do much other than…exist. In fact, the only reason they were down there was because they were in association with death or gloom or something stupid like that. If there was one thing Bellamy hated, it was people doing nothing or being counterproductive. Even though there had been unofficial titles given to people of these throughout the years, for company in the dreary and large castle, Bellamy forged his own era by nixing them.

The list that he did need to employ had seven open spots, which was company enough for him, as far as he could tell. There was a psychologist to deal with all the stress and problems people had when they died. This was a new addition or suggestion, as recent as a couple years before the previous Hades passed. Looking out over the massive group of people, and already seeing a fight breaking out, Bellamy knew that this was much needed. It was still going to be quite a long time until anyone was moving. People might as well figure out their shit now.

He decided also to find language tutors. While he could learn most things from books, language was one he would prefer to learn from a person. The grounder language was a must; he needed it here and there. Any other language from the old world people spoke would only help him communicate with his dead better. This was a temporary position, unlike the others, for he only needed them until he was fluent.

There needed to be a Charon, or a boat driver. There needed to be his Hermes, which had evolved to an assistant, best described as what Finn was doing now. His Hermes would handle minor problems and be a spokesperson of the waiting dead. Bellamy would be replacing Finn soon and was glad, for Bellamy couldn't stand him most times, and he was sure Finn felt the same.

There would need to be a Hecate, who was the goddess of magic and things, but in the growing years, had just been a keeper of sorts of his house. Not a 'cleaning lady' or 'cook', but more someone to watch it whenever he was away, and also, indirectly he supposed, to be a gardener and keep the things in his garden alive. They used to keep the creatures and the dog happy, but there weren't any animals left down here.

Lastly, while the last Hades had judged souls on his own and done a good job of it, there were too many people Bellamy knew here. Some souls he feared he would judge out of spite, not from a unbiased base, and that couldn't happen. Not when this was the end-all of choices in life, the final destination. There were once three judges, none Hades, that would chose where a person went. He was taking on the role of Minos, who had the final say in times of conflict.

He would be employing a 'Aeacus', who was the keeper of keys, whatever the heck that meant. He would also need a Rhadamanthus, who was also the guardsman of Elysium. He figured between the three of them, each soul would get a fair chance at a judging.

This first person was for Rhadamanthus, and Bellamy felt their name slip out without thinking.

"Wells."

The black boy nodded to Bellamy, his eyes narrowed. They, erm, had pretty much hated each other back in the beginning. It was never fixed because Bellamy had indirectly encouraged Charlotte kill him. He regretted it, of course, but Wells most likely hated him. It was a reasonable assumption.

"Bellamy. I almost didn't believe it when I heard." He said coolly.

"So…Rhadamanthus." Bellamy twirled his thumbs. It made sense; he'd heard the talk of the Elites like Wells or Clarke in his youth. Everyone said that Wells was a shoe-in for Chancellor one day. He had all the right parts about him to be a leader, and to be a fair one at that. What better way to show them than to be an eternal judge of justice?

"Well, I can't let you do all the decisions of these souls yourself." He said, his voice even. In another tone, it might have been out of a sense of obligation, that it was a large job to do alone. But Wells' tone indicated that he thought Bellamy would fuck it up alone, or be unfair about it. It caused him to flinch. Perhaps that was answer enough.

But Bellamy couldn't help asking, "But don't you want to go on? What about your mom or your dad?"

Wells shifted uncomfortably, and Bellamy almost said he didn't have to answer, but he was curious, "No. My mom died when I was young, I don't remember her much at all. It's almost like trying to connect to a stranger, so I don't need to pass on with her. My dad?" Wells pressed his lips together, "I just…I don't need to go on."

"Don't you have a girl or anything, Wells?" Bellamy frowned, still not quite convinced he was ready to give up his chance at moving on (or at least until Bellamy decided to kill himself). That would be awhile, because Bellamy intended to read every single book in that library. It was a large library.

"Growing up, it was always Clarke. My best friend. I spent all my time on her, didn't notice other girls. Tried to keep her from the truth, as much as she hated me. And then I got sent down with her and the rest is history."

"You loved her." Bellamy surmised. Wells shrugged, he didn't deny it.

"It was obvious. I even told her, tow years before her dad was floated. She appreciated the honesty, but wasn't in love with me. I didn't expect it back." He said, and Bellamy could admire his quiet honesty, his standards and morals.

"It seems everyone's in love with the Princess." Bellamy said, rolling his eyes. Wells met his gaze.

"Are you?" He asked. Bellamy looked away, refusing to answer. It wasn't a denial, nor was it any sort of affirmation. It was that he didn't have to answer to Wells. Not this, not yet.

Wells didn't pressure him, and asked about the life upstairs a bit. Bellamy figured it was the best way as any to see if he'd be good as a justice giver, depending on his responses. When he said it was coming to snow soon, Wells jumped.

"What day is it?" He asked.

"Like November 29th. Why?" He frowned, and Wells sighed.

"December 1st. The day Clarke's dad was floated." Wells informed him, and Bellamy felt his blood go cold. He knew the day his mother died like a mark seared into his brain, so there was no way that Clarke was going to let the day pass without a thought.

"Geeze," Bellamy rubbed the back of his neck, "If you were up there, what would you do? To make it better?" He asked.

Wells hesitated, but upon seeing the sincerity in Bellamy's eyes, he thought about it to reply. "I'd give her something to distract her. She does well when she has things to take her mind away from the awful things. It also shows forethought and care, and Clarke will remember that in the long run."

From the way he spoke, Bellamy was pretty sure Wells had done this whole bit before, from some other awful occurrence. Bellamy thanked him for his insight, but before Wells left, he gave one last hint.

"Clarke likes to paint and draw. I'd trade all my own things so she could entertain this hobby, an unpopular one on the Ark, due to the rarity of supplies. But in a place like this? I'm sure there's something you could dig up. Good luck with her. But since we're going to down here together in the long run, if you hurt her, and since you can't die, you're going to be in a world of hurt."

Bellamy believed his threat, and let himself sit in silence contemplating all that Wells had said before calling in the next candidate.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seemingly, I can't write anything (any other stories, damn you depression) but this...so be really glad I suppose XD
> 
> Thanks so much to my wonderful reviewers, you guys really make me and my muses want to continue. Haha...muses...greek...It's two AM, I'm a bit slap happy if you can't tell.
> 
> This chapter doesn't deal a whole ton with the mythological side of the story, but gets down to the gritty other stuff of it...the whole healing part of it too. It's very Clarke centric, but I think it is wholly needed in this story, or even the TV show, because it's not just something you can get over.

Clarke, on the 1st, was consciously and unconsciously avoiding looking at any or all calendars around the camp. On the more conscious note, as the air grew colder and stiffer, and the weather changed, she realized it must be nearly December, and that meant a singular thing…her dad's death-day anniversary would be arriving soon. On a less conscious note, the 1st of December brought about the coldest day yet, and even though it was technically her day off, so many people were idiots that she'd run around all day in a frenzy. Someone had licked a metal pole. Someone had slipped on the ice and broken their ankle. Someone had frostbite because they forgot their fur gloves and figured they would survive without them. The sheer stupidity of her people in new situations astounded her at times.

So it was very late in the day when she realized when it was, and she wasn't sure she wanted to remember at all. She could have hated herself a bit if she'd survived, woken up the next morning, and asked someone the date (not that a lot of people knew, anyway. It was a useless passage of time in many ways still) she'd feel a twinge of sorrow for not making a mark of it, but overall would have been fine. Yet she had to be going back into the fallen Ark to really start her day off when she ran into her mom…and she just knew. She could tell from one slight glance to her mother's face exactly what day it was.

"How are you, Clarke?" Her mother's eyebrows knit with worry. She must have assumed there was no way Clarke couldn't have known.

"I'm fine." Clarke replied airily, feeling dizzy, "I'm just going to sleep now, my day off. Uhm, I guess if the Med Bay gets really busy you can wake me." Clarke excused herself with a swift exchange of words, for she didn't want her mom feeling sorry for her. She didn't really want to see her mom at all right now.

It was only when she got back into the Ark, where her sleeping bag was, even though she'd be moving with everyone else to the almost-completed hut tonight, she couldn't help but feel herself breaking.

And she tried to ignore it for a very long time, she got two hours into a book which she wasn't quite paying attention to when it really hit her.

He'd been gone a year. It was impossible to believe it had been so long already; so long since she'd heard his voice, hugged him, or seen his smile. The delusions hadn't counted…they hadn't been real. She touched the watch on her wrist without thinking, but as soon as she noticed what she was doing, her hand pulled away like she'd been stung. The very memory of him was painful.

It seemed much too short a time for it to be a year. She was almost disgusted in herself that it didn't feel longer, that she didn't mourn him more. Perhaps this was enough; the crippling agony that collapsed inside of her as she gasped for air between tears she didn't register she was crying.

A year. Hell. It didn't even seem to connect to her, it was just a word that brought upon an awful sense of pain, seemingly insignificant but at the same time so important of a milestone.

And in the middle, Clarke briefly had to wonder, would it always feel like this? Would she always be walking about feeling as though there was a hole in the pit of her stomach, something taken, something irreplaceable?

She faintly thought that maybe she should be with her mother, that it would be a mistake to assume she wasn't hurting just as much as Clarke was. It was her husband, of course. They had a connection totally different than Clarke's own, but just as deep and profound.

The door to her small area opened abruptly, and Clarke jumped in surprise to see Bellamy leaning in the doorframe. He looked shocked to find her crying, and she bit her palm to keep from letting out an ugly sob in front of him. Attempting to gather herself, she sloppily wiped her tears on the back of her sleeve.

"Bellamy," Her voice crackled, "Hi."

"Are you…okay?"

She felt like snapping at him; of course she wasn't okay, she was sobbing on her day off. It was a year since her father died. It hurt and it burned and Clarke couldn't' stop it, for all as much as people praised her to be a doctor. No, she was not okay.

But she couldn't tell him any of that. His own mother had died too and she hadn't seen him shed a tear over her. She didn't find it wrong, but strong. She whished she could be as strong as him.

She clearly had taken too long to answer, or it was a rhetorical question, for Bellamy shifted something from underneath his armpit and came to sit next to her.

"I…I found this when I was on my day off. Thought you might enjoy it." He shrugged cautiously, handing her something. It was a bag. She shook the contents out to see a couple of paintbrushes, some old oil paints, and a small and blank canvas.

She looked at him. Did he know what day it was? Such a thoughtful gift, given to her now, on this day; that had to be on purpose, right? Had someone told him? She surly hadn't informed him about the significance of December 1st, but anyone that did know wouldn't be talking to Bellamy about it anyway. Or was it really just a coincidence, because it was her day off?

She stared at it, dumbfounded. It took her a long while to find her voice.

"Where did you get it?" She asked first, and Bellamy leaned out against the wall.

"Found another bunker, much more stocked. I don't paint." He shrugged, as if he'd brought it back on accident, and realized his folly. But it wasn't that…because it was just that, he didn't paint. Bringing it back, for her, was an intentional act.

"Where is it?" She asked. Bellamy's eyes shifted.

"Uh, finders keepers." He looked a bit uncomfortable, "I just don't want everyone to know about it yet. I'm capable of shifting through the important stuff. Also, it's nice to have a place just to yourself to go to." He sounded more truthful by the end. She was a bit hurt he didn't want to show her, but at the same time, she understood well what he meant. This pathetic and small closet was far from luxury, but it was hers alone. She was going to lose that by tonight.

"What's that?" She asked, noticing yet another item in his hands. Bellamy glanced around, checking to see if anyone was walking past, and showed her the cover. She didn't understand the secrecy of it until he flipped to a page.

"I think you're the only one I trust showing this to." He said, as she read the page hungrily. She understood immediately why he said that; her mother just the other day had said absent-mindedly that she hoped there would be some more to their group soon, by way of pregnancies. She seemed to have forgotten most of them were teens locked up for ages, in no place to have children.

"This will be useful to everyone, but this page," She ripped it out, much to Bellamy's horror, "Is best kept a secret." He seemed a bit pale as she folded it up and put it in an inner pocket with her other important things, and she found a laugh bubbling up her throat.

"You look as though I just killed a puppy, Bell." She said, grinning.

"I…books are sort of…sacred to me." Bellamy admitted, blushing once he realized the face he made, "But I suppose for the greater good."

"The greatest good." Clarke agreed, "Do you really think Harper would be ready to be mother?"

"Is she pregnant?" Bellamy startled, getting up to go find her, but Clarke grabbed his arm.

"I'm saying theoretically." She rolled her eyes.

"Oh," He still stood though, "So are you just going to stay in here and cry, Princess?" He asked, although it wasn't with a cruel tone, but more concerned, "Because there's something you really got to see."

Curious, and feeling upset she'd let him caught her in such a vulnerable state, she followed him. She only had to glance a bit outside to see what he meant, and she gasped. The whole camp was filled in a blanket of fluffy white snow…the first any of them had ever seen.

The entire camp, even those supposed to be working, was standing around and shuffling in it like children. She saw Kane poking at it with mild curiosity, his usual stern expression replaced by wonder.

"It's…beautiful." She felt her breath hitch, and looked at Bellamy. He had the same look on his face.

"Yeah." He agreed, "I don't know if I'll ever grow tired of what Earth really looks like." He admitted, rubbing his neck.

"Don't lose the wonder." Clarke felt herself murmuring, "Never."

A flying ball of snow came out of nowhere and hit Bellamy directly in the back of the head as he walked. He spun around to see who had done it, and found Jasper and the rest of the delinquents laughing at his expression. No one seemed to remember that Jasper was upset with him, not for a moment, until Jasper did realize. He stopped laughing and stared at Bellamy, who reached down and cupped the packy snow together and sent it flying his way.

Jasper couldn't keep his scowl, and soon the whole camp was throwing snow at each other, adults included. Clarke found herself behind a piece of metal with Raven and Wick. They, being the smart ones they were, could perfectly calculate how hard and what direction to throw the balls. Raven looked down at Clarke and nudged her.

"Clarke, are you crying?" She asked with a confused look, and Clarke felt under eyes to find them wet.

"I am." She admitted, staring at it, then staring over the metal. It wasn't tears of sadness, not right now, "I just…I never thought I'd see Jasper forgive us." She admitted, as she watched him and Bellamy on the other side of the clearing, working side-by-side.

"Time heals everything." Raven said sagely, and left Clarke to her wonder as she and Wick took on the Millers.

Eventually, after everyone was extremely cold and shivering, and there wasn't much snow left to ball up on the ground any longer, Kane called it off, trying to sound stern. He growled at everyone to continue work, but Clarke saw the smile slipping from his frown, and that made her really happy.

Even she couldn't stay here, in this moment, forever. She felt the furled up paper in her pocket, and realized with a jolt what she had to do. She lugged a gun over her shoulder, nodding to Miller as she left. She had some chores to do.

The sky was darkening when she returned to camp, grabbing the first person she saw. "Octavia, I shot a deer. Thought we deserved a good meal tonight."

She hadn't been looking for it, it had quite literally sprung in front of her as if asking to be killed. The most meat they got here was squirrels (beggars can't be choosers) or some bird and fish. The bigger game had long ago realized their presence and scattered.

"It's not two-headed and glowing green, is it?" She asked, grabbing rope. Clarke chuckled.

"No, no. It's not radioactive at all." She assured. Octavia motioned for Lincoln to follow, as both were lounging before the moving into the new cabin setting and their meeting after, and Lincoln muttered how he hadn't had deer in such a long time.

As they walked through the woods, the snow crunching underfoot, Octavia poked Clarke.

"I saw my brother going into your room today, you know." She winked, and Lincoln stiffened. Clarke felt a blush begin to rise, but squashed it down.

"No, no." She shook her head; "He was just going over something important with me he found." She said, truthful in the matter.

"Oh, was it his undying lo-ow!" Octavia began, but cut off as Lincoln jabbed her in the side. She rubbed her stomach, "What the heck?"

"Undying love?" Clarke finished the thought on her own, frowning, "You're mistaken."

"Well I wouldn't be surprised at this point." Octavia gave an aggravated sigh, "Have you noticed he hasn't slept with one girl since well I don't even know when? And trust me, it's not for lack of them trying. If I get one more girl asking what it's gunna take for him to sleep with them, I swear to god."

"So you're saying…that's because of me." Clarke narrowed her eyes in suspicion. Well, he was awful nice to her, and his gift today had been sort of out of character, thoughtful mostly. It was a novel thought.

"Octavia is just speculating." Lincoln said firmly, and this settled Clarke's rapidly beating heart, although she wasn't sure it was a good thing, "I think she just wants it to happen." He gave her a hard, but meaningful, glare.

"Hey, if I gotta deal with someone as a future sister-in-law for the rest of my life, I gotta like her! I'm seriously the only person down in our group that has that problem, you know." She pointed out, and Clarke cracked a grin. She paused to look around the forest.

"Lincoln, where have all the grounders gone?" She asked.

"Polis, I'd suspect. We do not like winters, and this one was prophesized to be bad. Even without it, the stunt that Lexa pulled at the Mountain? She knows better than to come back around for a while. While I do think her armies would easily kill our group," Clarke warmed that he said 'our' as odd as it was, "She did seem to really…" Lincoln struggled for the word, "Like you."

"As in love me." Clarke clicked the tongue, "Huh. Are they coming back?"

"I'm not sure. One thing or another decimated a large number of tribe. I have checked the old camps, and everything has been taken, it seems. We like our land, but we are well enough off to be able to travel to other places, so be it. Your tribe is not, currently. I do think they will eventually come back, we are fond of our places we have children and grow up, but it may be years, even." Lincoln said.

"That would be nice." Clarke relaxed, "I would really like to go through this winter without any more wars." She groaned, rubbing her eyes. They came upon the deer, and Octavia fist-pumped the air.

"Oh, look at that!" She squealed to Lincoln, who looked concern at the octave her voice reached, "Man, I've never been so ready to eat anything, not even living under the floor."

"I still find this so odd." Lincoln commented, sighing, "What kind of society would make this the only choice?" There was judgment in his voice, such of which she did not blame. She'd never had to perform any…abortions…aboard the ship, but her mother had done many. It did hurt her mother with every child gone. The weight of it added it quickly on someone's conscious.

"One that needed to service." Clarke said with a hard tone. Was she no better? Providing women with a similar way out? But then again, on the ship, more than half of those second children could have been loved, wanted. Here that choice to keep it would always be 'yes', and perhaps this was blessing enough.

"Things were different there." Lincoln admonished after a second, seemingly apologetic for his tone.

"Things are different now." Clarke shrugged, "You guys take it back. I need to grab something else, all right?" She said, and the pair nodded, lugging the deer on their shoulders.

Clarke carefully scooped up the singular plant she'd managed to save, and trotted back to camp. By the time she arrived, the deer was already smoking over a fire, and everyone was in a merry mood as they carried their things into the large hut.

She had to think that Bellamy's idea was an ingenious one. The last touches had been added today, right in time for snow, and not a moment too soon. Pushing aside a tarp to keep the cool air out, it was already much warmer inside with fires dotting the length.

There was some added privacy, but not much. It was set up so that six people could sleep in a section together, with little screens extending to the length of the sleeping mats, leaving a walk-way between people. There were three on each side, and the mats were really all there was room for. In between each area was a slightly larger common area with a fire, meant to house twelve all-together when they weren't sleeping.

For right now, she was glad about the lack of privacy. Fewer chances for people to get pregnant, as they'd have to venture into the cold and snowy forest for even a moment of alone time, which was hard to come by as it was. But then again, people's drive for sex and the notion of maybe being caught as 'trilling' (and cooped up in here with little to do) might work against them too, but she was going to be prepared if that was the case.

She was sure through the winter more would be added as they continued to work and people made it their own, but for right now, it was a good starting place. The floor was dirt, no floors down yet, just as she'd hoped, but it unfortunately meant having to keep her shoes on until she'd crawl into bed every night.

She paused in the doorway, the din of people talking over each other almost overwhelming, but so comforting. It was so organic, so different from the white and cool walls of the Ark housing stations.

"Clarke!" She heard the voice of just the person she'd been looking for. Bellamy was waving her over, and by the time she arrived where he was, he looked a little unsure of himself.

"Uh, wanna bunk up with me…and others of course. We need one more person in our six." He offered, motioning behind him to where Raven, Wick, Jasper, and Monty were setting up. She smiled at Jasper, and she felt a small victory when he returned it. Things were getting back to normal.

"What about Octavia?" She asked. Bellamy bit the inside of his lip.

"She's going over to the small two person one that's unfinished at the end there…with Lincoln…as far away from everyone else, who well…" At first, Clarke thought that Octavia being alone with Lincoln upset him, but after a moment to process his words, she sighed.

"They'll get over him being a grounder eventually, you know. I trust him more than I trust Murphy, and he was our own. He's proven to be a good person." She assured.

"Well, you're just a little trustworthy of almost everyone sometimes, Princess." He said, his feathers ruffled.

"Anyway, I'd love to bunk with you guys," She really would, "But I have to sleep over by the medic area, in case stuff happens in the middle of the night. Next to my mother." Which she was less than thrilled about. She wasn't upset, or hadn't, about sleeping next to the auxiliary hurt with an elevated bed for patients and shelves tacked onto the wood. But after Bellamy's offer, and thinking back to Octavia's thoughts, she felt a pang of sorrow. Sleeping next to him, or even across from him, would have been really…nice.

"What's that?" Bellamy said, noting the plant in her hands. Then he looked at it carefully, and recognized it. "Oh."

"Oh yes." Clarke nodded, "I need you to plant it by your bed and care for it." She said.

"Why can't you?" He argued as Clarke waltzed past him, kneeling on the ground and started to dig a hole, "Clarke…your mom has a whole garden over there."

"Well, she'd see this and not know what it is. And maybe she'd find out, and maybe she'd uproot it, and maybe we'd be screwed then."

"That's a lot of maybe's." Raven said, coming to stand behind Clarke, watching her dig, "What is that plant anyway?"

Clarke leaned over to see Bellamy whisper something in Raven's ear, and her eyes widened in understanding.

"Ah, well, Blake. Think of it this way…you kept a baby alive. A plant is so much easier. Much less demanding too." She patted him on the back, and Bellamy grimaced. But now the plant was planted next to his sleeping area, and she saw his resolve not to take care of the plant fading quickly.

"We still need to find another person, or else we'll get whoever's left over." Wick pointed out, lounging across his and Raven's space.

"Well, Murphy's gone, and he's the worst person anyone could get stuck with, so we don't have to worry about that." Raven assured, touching her leg brace unconsciously. If Murphy was here, Raven might murder him in his sleep…and Clarke might have looked the other way. He was the only person that made her blood burn with hate…not even Cage or his father did that to her like he did.

"Well, there are more spaces than people, theoretically." Monty stated, who had been on the building committee, "We might get lucky and not need to add another person."

"Awesome sauce. Raven and I are going to take this space to us. Make a nice little bed." He winked, and Jasper pretended to barf.

"If I wake up and you two are getting it on, we're going to have problems." He said, shaking his head. Raven looked offended.

"Uh, so not into voyeurisms." She rolled her eyes, "you're missing out on the most awesome bunk, Clarke." She taunted.

"I'll be over here all the time, I promise." Clarke chuckled, feeling sad she had to sleep by her job, "It really does seem fun." She met Bellamy's eyes, and he suddenly was quite interested at the ground.

Octavia's words continued to spring up.

"I think the meeting is starting soon, Bellamy." Clarke pushed thoughts of love from her head. She wasn't ready to admit her slight feelings toward him, and she wasn't going to pressure him into saying something he wasn't ready to either. And she had to think perhaps he knew, but maybe she was wrong. Guys did need neon signs to get points across, at the best of times.

The meeting was perfunctory; everyone had better places to be. Clarke wasn't even obligated to attend, as it was her day off, but she couldn't imagine perhaps missing something important. Everyone had their reasons for wanting to wrap it up quickly; some sat blowing warm air into their hands, anxious to return back to the warmth of their new huts, as their meeting hut was detached from the main communal area. Others were vibrating with excitement about the newness of it all, and didn't want to miss a moment of the shares of laughter from their group. Bellamy's stomach growled loudly as they were just starting, and after a pause to glare, everyone realized the aroma of the deer was wafting with the wind into the area. No one blamed him after that.

It was merely a 'we're-on-track' meeting to remind everyone of the plans of the upcoming weeks. The huge one was the return to Mount Weather. It had been a grueling meeting to decide how to deal with the things left there, untouched. The idea of 'morality' sprung up quite often, and Clarke and Bellamy received more than one side-ways glance of almost disgust, a bitter reminder that they had been the sole members to put them in this situation of having to decide such things. Clarke had shrunk away from debates that day, staring mordantly at the table.

After hours of discussion, the cost of survival had outweighed the cost of their own perceptions of moral choices. They had to go back. It had food, information, warm things, and other amities lost to them since the breaking and falling of the Ark.

It was not met with total support from the Arkians when told. It was to be expected, though, most had suffered awful torture there. It was then decided that they should carefully screen members to take with them, those that were the least likely to react badly to returning.

Clarke was going; that was finality. She knew it in her bones she had to be one to go.

This meeting was a discussion of possible people that they'd observed as the best coped or hadn't felt the coldness of the Mountain themselves. There were slim pickings, Clarke realized with a gulp.

After was the discussion of the rotation of days off, and it was in that moment that Kane seemed to realize Clarke was there.

"Isn't it your day off?" He questioned, pausing the meeting.

"It is. I didn't want to miss anything." Clarke nodded.

"We would have told you. You should be grieving on a day like today, not throwing yourself at work."

His words stung. Did everyone know, she wondered? Then again, from the confused looks shared between everyone, it seemed not. Now the questions would endless, and Clarke felt her throat clog up. She stood, her chair clattering backwards.

"Maybe I should…" She felt dizzy.

"Go get food." Kane advised, a soft and tender look in his eyes, which Clarke found laughably unusual, "We'll fill you in if anything else is decided." He said.

Clarke couldn't leave the area fast enough; although she felt a million eyes follow her. The deer was being cut into equal portions for everyone, and Clarke forced her feet into line. The portion was tiny, but it was so wanted. She was given nuts and a makeshift cup of water to finish off the meal. Not glamorous, but survivable.

As she slumped against the wall of the area, too upset to go inside, she felt a body slide next to her. She glanced up, seeing Monty, who took one look into her glass. With a swift hand, he switched it out for a different cup, and she took a sip, expecting water. It was clear, but it wasn't.

She spat out, letting the residue of the taste sink onto her tongue.

"Moonshine?" She frowned, rolling the drink along the rim of the glass. Monty winced.

"Thought you might want something a bit stronger today." He said, as she was in mid-sip.

"God above, does everyone know?" She huffed out loud, kicking a small pile of snow at her feet. Monty shrugged.

"If more than one person knows, eventually everyone does. And I guessed, after I might have saw you crying." He admitted after a long moment.

"Oh, gosh, darn." Clarke winced, "I didn't think anyone but Bellamy saw that."

"It's okay. Really, it's okay to be sad." He assured her, and she sighed. He stood, brushing the snow from his pants, "Now don't tell anyone else about that. It's in short supply, only in case of emergency or celebration." He warned. Clarke let out a small trill of laughter.

"Secrets safe with me, Green." She raised her glass, "Thanks."

She ate her meal in blessed silence and solitude. The moonshine was more appreciated later, as she drank more of it, into the meal. She started to feel herself blubber up a bit again; all her friends, people she would have likely never encountered other than in passing on the Ark, were so caring toward her, in a way she only had ever felt Wells to be. It was overwhelming to have some many people caring about her, but really quite extraordinary.

After finishing up, she shuffled back into tent, stuffing the cup of moonshine with fresh-snow. Her mother was waiting for her.

"Do you want to talk?" She asked.

"No. Not at all." Clarke said, her voice like a rough stone. She'd realized that she did love her mother after watching the men tie her to the table, at the threat of harvesting her marrow, but it didn't mean she was ready to have a heart-to-heart about it quite yet.

Abbey nodded in sage understanding.

"Well, I'll mostly be in the Clinic. Jack feels funny and Suzanne still has a fever, so I don't want to leave her alone. Since it's still your day off, I'll take care of it." She hovered in the threshold between the clinic and the sleeping area, "Clarke…" She began to say, but when Clarke glanced up, whatever it was died on her mother's lips. In the end, she just smiled, nodding, and disappeared behind the curtain.

Clarke, now once again alone, leaned back to feel a heavy weight at her pillow. Her art supplies!

She eagerly took them out, but coldness crept up her fingers. Recalling her past, every bad memory possible seemed to cling to her good memories of art, making it hard to want to touch it again.

Her father laughed in delight the first time she drew something other than an unrecognizable blob. Wells had traded his own things for her artistic urges, and she'd treated him like she was the shittiest friend in the world. On the Ark prison she'd drawn with stubs of chalk her mother slipped to her through the bars, and in desperation, picked scabs and used the blood. Finn had brought her back cute gifts of pencils and paper before and after Raven. Wallace had given her an canvas and oil paints during her captivity in the Mountain.

She was terrified that if she tried once again, it would be ruined by dark memories, and she would never want to touch a paintbrush again. But in the end, her fingers itched, and she couldn't help herself.

She was a mess of painting, up until the wee-hours. She and her mother were alone in their cube, luckily, so she wasn't disturbing anyone. Her candle dripped wax onto the ground, but she was a blur of color and love of a craft. It wasn't until she heard footsteps that she paused.

"Princess, it's like two AM." Bellamy yawned, standing over her. His face lit up when he noted her activity of choice, "You're using the paints."

"You're not going out to stare at a rock wall tonight?" Clarke questioned, and Bellamy scoffed.

"No, it's harder to sneak out now." He winked, but Clarke wasn't totally sure he wasn't joking, "Besides, it's actually…nice in here. Easy to fall asleep."

"But you're not." She said, and Bellamy bit the inside of his cheek.

"No, I'm not." He sat beside her, and his eyes widened, "I always knew people said you liked art, but wow…that's…you perfectly captured it." He said. Clarke looked down at the painting she'd created; the rolling hills, the laughing people, and the projectiles of packed balls of soft precipitation. She had hardly realized her choice of inspiration, but looking at it, how could this ever be marred by darkness?

"As long as I live, I never want to forget it." She said after a moment, adding lightness to Harper's jacket.

"Me neither."

There was a long pause.

"You going to sleep tonight, Blake?" She asked softly. Bellamy winced.

"That's to be decided." He muttered, "You?"

"Same." She set aside the canvas with care, leaning it next to her bed, "Should we…stay up together, then?"

"Yeah, I suppose. Not like I have anywhere better to be." At first, Clarke was offended, until she saw the light twinkling in his eyes. She hit his arm.

"You jerk." She accused, "I'm an awesome person to be around."

"Uh-huh." He agreed faintly, head lolling backwards, "Whatever you say…"

Clarke's head came to rest on his shoulder.

"I am." She whispered languidly, as her eyes fluttered shut.

Bellamy didn't hear, and Clarke didn't need an answer. Both had fallen asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many Bellarke feels! Can you feel them?
> 
> Please leave a review/kudo, it really means a whole lot to us authors. I just want to point out that although it might not seem a ton for you to do, it can honestly light up an author's whole day. Not that y'all haven't been awesome, I just want to put that out there for my more silent followers of this fic :)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO SORRY IT HAS BEEN SO LONG! For the last month I was studying for finals, taking finals, and then in Rome and Ethiopia over holidays. I still have about five days left until my new semester starts, and only just now am I getting shit (ie; updating stories) done. This one is far overdue, of course. I apologize I didn't really have anyway to contact my people here. If you want to stay updated, you can follow me on my Wattpad account (my pen-name is FrostedGemstones) because it has like a twitter capability there where I can send messages out to my followers, and i managed to update them about my lack of writing activity. The site itself might have some scary fanfiction (1D...shudder) but that little thing right there makes up for it a little.

"Remember, keep those doors closed. Food, warm clothing, only what's important now! Terry, you know better. Put that down." Bellamy barked, catching the thirteen-year-old attempting to shove some figurine into his pocket. Guiltily, the boy put it back on the shelf, face reddened with embarrassment.

Bellamy gave him a hard glare, but was assured he wouldn't do something so idiotic again, before checking his list. A gust of cold wind blew through the tunnels, and he shivered, zipping up his newly acquired parka up to his neck and flexing his fingers through his gloves in an attempt to get the blood running.

"What did I say about that door?" He growled, and Monroe sprinted past him.

"I'll get it." She called, sighing in frustration too.

Bellamy felt like smashing his head against a wall. He hadn't forgotten how difficult it had been to lead a group of children that were delinquents. But leading a group made up mostly of non-delinquent children? Completely awful. He found most arrogant and disrespectful. He constantly had to remind himself that they weren't used to having to do all this merely to survive, and most were actually good kids, because they'd never found themselves in the Box. It didn't mean he wasn't tired of them trying to undermine him half the time.

He spun around to the sound of wood breaking, and saw a kid breaking apart an antique chair that once had intricate wood details and a soft padded seat. Now, it was in splinters on the ground.

"Paul! What are you doing?" He roared, grabbing the rest of the chair from the boy's hand, attempting to set it back up on it's remaining two legs.

"Firewood." Paul replied, a little confused at Bellamy's tone, "It's just a chair."

"Did you forget we live in a forest now? This is history." Bellamy said, teeth gnashing. And it wasn't even about the history of it, although Bellamy was sure some carpenter had spent days detailing it, but about the honor of the owner's before it. Maybe this had been a lady's favorite tea chair, or a teenager's seat where she did her hair up every morning. They deserved the respect that stupid kids didn't destroy such things.

"It's a chair." Paul repeated, his tone growing hotter.

"Go find Lincoln. You're now on haul duty." Bellamy commanded. There was a tense second between him and the fiery teen before Paul loped off, glaring reproachfully at Bellamy.

"These kids!" Bellamy huffed as Monroe returned, shaking his head; "You'd think they'd never taken orders in their life!"

"Don't mind Paul, he was richer on the Ark. He probably never did." Monroe waved her hand, "And…it takes a while of getting used to, you know? You, a delinquent, as a leader."

"I'm a great leader." Bellamy said, a little offended.

"You also shot Chancellor Thelonius." She offered unhelpfully, "But hey, you know." She added with a shrug.

Bellamy glowered.

It had been a month and a half since Clarke's father's death date, and they'd voted to go through the mountain for supplies. Well, that wasn't quite true. At first, there had been a slight vote against it, and they'd fared well for about two weeks. Then, a brutal snowstorm hit and everyone realized they were in far too much over their heads. The vote had been taken again amongst the council, and this time it had been unanimous. To survive, they'd need to loot the mountain.

No one had been overly happy about it, so it was easy for Bellamy to step in and take the lead job. Everyone looked at him as though he'd been assigned some boring or dull duty, and no one really envied him. He'd also been chosen because he had pressured for a sense of dignity as they looted, that they leave much of it undisturbed and only took what was necessary. The wounds and idea of death was still too fresh to take more than that.

But it was hard. Bellamy often came across something he cool like a large and soft sofa, and thought it might be nice for the main room. Or a painting that would look awesome on a wall. He had to keep himself in check though; they weren't ready for many things they'd grown used to on the Ark in terms of living conditions. Perhaps next spring, when individual houses were constructed, and what they'd done was not quite as lingering, they would come back and distribute things like furniture or other things.

He had found himself the leader of mostly non-Skybox children. Anyone who'd been in the Mountain wasn't rushing to go back, sans Monroe, Lincoln, and Clarke. Those three were strong enough to realize he needed a little help, and he knew Clarke felt guilty enough she'd never let him in alone…except for today.

"I found this blanket!" A girl called to him triumphantly from a room, "There's not much else useful in this room." She said.

"Good." He nodded, checking off another room number on his sheet. He'd go through it later, but it was easier to have multiple people sweep it first. A couple trinkets occasionally made it back, but a lot they either caught or were respectful enough to leave it be.

"Do you think the medical hut could use it?" She asked, rocking back on her feet, "For Timothy?"

Bellamy gave a sad smile, "I think he'd like it. He'll be warm, at least."

Winter was nothing like anyone had expected. Mostly, it was the sickness it brought. On the Ark, most things were pretty sterile, and there wasn't much of anything to get sick from. Apart from the few that guarded the tree, really no one got sick. If they did, they were swiftly quarantined and over the illness within a couple days. Here, people fell ill left and right and it spread like wildfire. The medical hut was over packed with people, and the majority of them were quite ill. The youngest was a boy named Timothy, who'd gotten sick just after December 1st, and still hadn't come back from it. He was why Clarke wasn't here today helping him, the boy's condition was far too serious to leave. Neither her nor her mother could do much to help, she'd told him.

They weren't going to let the others know, it would only cause panic.

So Bellamy smiled at her, and checked his list. "We're nearly done. You can start heading back with that. Wouldn't want it getting wet. Tell the others to start packing up. That was the last room." He told Monroe, and watched as his workers trickled out of the mountain with warm jackets, blankets, pillows, or entire cots (if they could manage). They also were bringing back food, medicine, and useful books. Bellamy signaled to Monroe as she arrived back at his side, and they both began to re-sweep the rooms. They both had sharp eyes at this point to things tucked away that might be useful.

In the third room Bellamy looked through, he found some oil pastels. Glancing around to make sure Monroe wasn't going to pop in, he shoved them down his shirt and zipped up his jacket.

They only found a handful of thing that the first team hadn't caught, and he was pleased. His team was becoming more thorough with their movements. He met up with Lincoln at the gates, who had a bag of confiscated items that they stored in a broom closet. He was also glad to see the bag was getting smaller.

The first day had been the worst, three whole bags of things confiscated. He'd taken the whole team promptly to the graves, and made them read off the names while he talked about those he'd known or heard stories about, and made the kids realize that these people had died suddenly and they'd killed them. It didn't matter who started it or who was in the wrong, but they needed to understand these had been people too and they were the rightful owners. They should thank their lucky stars every day they got the chance to use things like blankets.

The trek back to Camp Jaha was difficult. The snow bit his nose and fingers like a dog, and he pulled his scarf around his face so only his eyes peeked out. Back at the camp, no one lingered outside. A few people looked on from the entrances to the larger hut, with blankets wrapped tightly around their shoulders. Kane was already working with Octavia to sort the items brought back into groups. Bellamy nodded to him as he passed and went to the medical hut.

"You shouldn't be in here." Clarke's voice stopped him before he even got both his feet in, "You'll get sick too."

"Did Timothy get the blanket?" He asked, his voice a mere croak. Two more people had been shoved into the already cramped space.

"Yeah." Her voice softened and she wiped a tear from her eyes, "I don't know what I can do. He's dying, Bell."

"Have you eaten yet?"

"I've been here. I'm needed." She said firmly, starting to go back to where her mother and Sinclair fluttered around to the dying people.

"No, let's get food. We don't need you getting sick either." He said, and raised his voice, "I'm forcing Clarke to eat." He called to Abby. She looked up, startled.

"What? Oh, yes. Please. I can't get her to leave either." She said, a hint of a smile on her lips.

"I'm far too busy to eat, Bellamy!" Clarke protested as he literally dragged her from the tent, handing her a jacket near the door.

"Do I look like I care?" He scoffed, pulling her toward the food hut. Monty was on food duty today, and it seemed they were serving a kind of stew or broth. People lined up, bracing and shivering in the cold to get their portions. Monty saw them, and waved them to the front of the line. Most people had strict food times that they could go, to crowd control, but the leaders got food whenever they could. Monty handed them two bowls.

"Clarke lives. I didn't think we'd ever see her from the medical hut."

"Har har, very funny." Clarke said, her tone dry, "People are actually-," She realized she was in a public place, and sighed, "Thanks Monty." She settled for, albeit in a muttered tone.

They weaved through the people and out into the cold and back to the main hut where they sat on Bellamy's bed. She at first just glared at him, until it was obvious he wasn't going to let her go back to the medical hut. He watched as she took a sip, tentative at first, but then hunger took over and she down the entire bowl.

"Have mine." Bellamy offered, handing his half-eaten slosh to her.

"What? No. You've been trekking through the forest all day. I know how exhausted the team makes you." She said, poking his side.

"And you've been standing all day too. You're much more important to us right now than me." He said. Clarke smacked his arm.

"Don't say that."

"It's true. So many people are falling sick. We need probably another doctor for things to even start to be fair."

Clarke's jaw twitched, but she didn't disagree.

Bellamy looked around, and when he was sure everyone was basically minding their own business, pulled the oil set from his shirt. Clarke's eyes grew wide and sparkled with recognition.

"Bellamy, you shouldn't have." She whispered, "No one else can take things from the cave like this." She hissed, but didn't let go of it. He gave a casual shrug.

"Being the leader has its perks." He said, "And you, of all people, need a little joy in your life." He said, and he felt her hand slip into his own. A rush of blood raced through his whole body.

"Thanks." She said, squeezing his hand, "Really."

"Anytime, Princess."

There was a commotion down the ways, near the medical hut, and Clarke sat up, her hand jerking out of his. Wick came rushing down, and grabbed her arm.

"Clarke," Was all he said, the terror in his voice a clear indication of the situation. She shoved the oil paints under Bellamy's pillow, and strode through the people. Bellamy followed behind, elbowing his way through the crowd that filled in as she walked.

The medical hut was full of shouting and Bellamy could only see a sliver of the action, but it was centered on Timothy. He was coughing violently, blood staining his little fingers, and Abby was yelling something about a high fever. His dazed eyes looked around and met Bellamy's, and Bellamy took a sharp intake of breath. It was the strangest feeing, like a cord snapped, and an ominous coldness overtook Bellamy's whole body.

He stumbled away, trying to catch his breath, shocked. The feeling of a string being pulled taut and snapping was so much clear in his brain, like a pounding, and he didn't even grab his hat or scarf. He just took out running out of the camp. The guard didn't even notice him leave; everyone was crowding around the medical tent praying for a miracle.

Bellamy reached the cave in record time, sliding down the slippery and muddy slope to the waiting area. He didn't even greet Finn or his mother or anyone else, but grabbed Finn's shoulders.

"Where to people arrive when they die?" He demanded, his grip tight on Finn's shoulders.

"What?" Finn asked. Bellamy could feel the stares of many people at his back, but didn't care.

"When people die. Where do they arrive at?" Bellamy asked, his voice sharper and more impatient, half-shaking Finn.

"Over there, by that rock formation." Finn stuttered out, "Why?"

Bellamy shoved him away, sprinting over to the rock Finn had pointed out. He watched, holding his breath, praying he was wrong. Dead people gathered behind him, whispering quietly in confusion. It was the strangest thing; one moment there was nothing there. The next, in the span of a blink, was Timothy with blood all down his chin and chest.

"Oh, oh dear." His mother whispered, stepping in front of Bellamy to pick up the five-year-old. Bellamy snapped his eye shut, shaking his head.

"Bellamy?" The child whispered, bringing him back into focus.

"Timonthy…" Bellamy whispered, "You're safe now, it's okay." His legs felt like jelly as he stepped forward, using part of his sleeve to wipe away the blood from his chin and fingers, although there was little he could do.

The anguished sob of a mother broke his thoughts as Timothy's mom, who had died in the Ark's falling, stumbled forward to embrace the boy. Aurora handed him off, tears glistening in her eyes. The mother turned to Bellamy, face ashen.

"How did he die?" She demanded.

"A sickness. The cold, the winter…" He found himself fumbling, "I don't really know. We tried to save him." He found the words pouring out before he could catch them.

"Is it bad up there?" Someone asked, frowning. Bellamy was pretty sure they had been killed in the culling.

"So much sickness, and I don't know what it is. No one seems to, except Lincoln, and he doesn't know how to stop it." He said, looking at the place Timothy had appeared with a frown, "There will be more." He felt it in his chest like a rock lodged deeply in there.

"Are you okay?" His mother asked, cradling his jaw.

"I felt it mom. I looked at that kid up on earth and knew he was going to die and there was nothing I could do. I felt his life line snap." He whispered, "The least I could do was be here. I wish…I wish I had been wrong."

"You can feel when people are dying?" Finn spoke up, "Shit…"

"Does your book say anything about it?" Maya asked, and he noticed her hovering close for the first time.

"I think so. I recall something. I guess I didn't really think…" He pulled out the book of Hades from his jacket pocket; flipping through the pages to find the journal entry he vaguely recalled reading. How could he have forgotten this? Then again, there were thousands of years worth of notes and scribbles, it was easy to loose it in the sea of information…

"Here." Bellamy said, "It was written in Latin, and I skimmed it. I can feel everyone's lifeline. In the beginning of my reign, I'll only be able to feel it clearly when someone's about to die, a forewarning of sorts. It says when I become skilled in all ways of Hades- I don't know what that means- I'll be able to look at almost anyone and tell exactly how and when they'll die. The almost is asterisked with the notice that some destinies are more set in stone than others, I guess that some might change depending on things." He held the page with his finger, closing it slightly, frowning. He didn't know how he felt about being able to sense everyone's death dates. He didn't want to look at Miller and know that his friend was mortal and was going to die. Or maybe, everyone he cared about would be long dead before he 'mastered' that.

"Is there more?" Maya prompted, ever curious.

"Yeah." He flipped the book back open, "On that note, it says I can also kill others. I suppose that would mess up the death date idea, because I can't tell if I'm- as death- is going to off someone. But I do have that power, obviously…as Hades." He winced deeper. He'd killed before, sure, but the idea of having such ultimate power now…? This unsettled him. He liked being mortal before, where there was a bit more chance to life and death. The guy made it seem as though it was only a simple snap of his fingers, which maybe it was, and someone was dead.

"Do you think you could reverse it?" His mother asked softly, "Heal people? The Romans hailed Hades as a grateful god too, because he controlled the plant life." She reminded her son. He gave a warm smile to his mom, not for the first time pleased he got the love of history from her. He'd been so caught up in thinking about his newly read powers he had forgotten that.

"I'm really not sure." He was positive there was nothing about bringing people back to life in here, he would have seen it and remembered it clearly, "Most of the pervious Hades didn't like going up there and socializing much." He pointed above him, "I'm a unique case."

"Wouldn't that be wonderful." Timothy's mother sniffed, "No other boys like him would have to suffer." She whispered, rubbing his ginger hair affectionately.

"It's a nice thought." Bellamy agreed, a bit wistfully. It sounded too good to be true.

There was a hesitant tap on his shoulder. He turned to see Greg standing behind him.

"Bellamy? I'm sorry to interrupt, but perhaps you've come at an opportune time. The boat's done."

It took a couple moments for the words to sink in, and when it did, Bellamy whipped his head around to see the shiny new boat bobbing in the water, painted an array of colors by Charlotte and a few other dead children she'd befriended down here. It brought a wide grin to his face.

"Looks marvelous Greg." He praised, stuffing the book back in his pocket, and going over to admire the handiwork. No detail had been missed, from the woodcarvings at the hull and front, to the comfort of the seats and the stick the new Charon would use. It was a pretty darn good boat, if he did say so himself.

"So…?" The question hung in the air, a palatable excitement rustling through the crowd. Bellamy gave a slow shake of his head.

"I need to get back and mourn with the living." He cast a sorry gaze to Timothy, "A child's death is going to really hurt everyone, you know? I'm their leader first and foremost because they're not going to be around as long."

"No, please." Greg said, "Mourn with them. We mourn here, but you do need to be up there. I'm sure we can wait another day."

Even those that seemed to protest were pacified by Greg's words, the wise old man having a calming effect on the crowd. He was well respected, Bellamy could tell. And he was grateful. It was an emotional day, and Bellamy was a little irritated and didn't really want to explain himself.

"Won't they be wondering where you've gotten off to?" His mother asked gently, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Yeah…" He sighed, "I just…I wanted to be here if…" he motioned to Timothy. Timothy's mother gave a coo of gratitude.

"You have a large heart, Bellamy." She said, "He really liked you, up there." She looked at the ground above her, "I'm glad to be reunited, but I wish it wasn't like this. You need to make sure it won't happen again."

"I will do everything I can." He was serious in that promise. He turned back to Greg and Finn, looking at the boat thoughtfully.

"I don't' know when I'll be able to be back." He stated honestly, "But you need me here. Things are tense up there, lots of sickness and cold and I don't think Timothy will be the last, although if anything, hopefully the last child. I don't want to keep everyone waiting but…" He gave a moan of frustration. The pull to both his leadership jobs were taking the toll on him, the stress and guilt of being one place and not the other constantly ringing in the back of his mind.

"I get it." Even Finn's voice was understanding, "Greg's right. We can wait. Is Clarke keeping healthy?"

Bellamy didn't want to answer, but his frustration flooded out, "You know her. I have to forcefully pull her away to even get her to eat. She'd run herself into the ground if it meant saving two or three lives."

Finn shook his head, "That's what I was afraid of." He said, sticking his hand in his pockets.

Bellamy held a sharp response on his tongue. Instead, he turned promptly on his heels, in no such mood to let anything else about Clarke slip- and was about to call to Wells and his last chosen judge over to discuss about the next time he visited when Finn gave an audible gasp.

He turned, and saw a figure emerging from the entrance from the upper world. An instinctual pull forced him to move. He waved his hand, and felt powers unknown draw from it, and blinked in surprise, realizing he'd vanished all the spirits from sight. They were still there, individual presences of the deceased pressing against his brain, their essences still existing, merely not in sight. Finn's was the most persistent, annoying like a mosquito, his incredulous question ringing high pitched through Bellamy's own mind-

"Can she even be down here? Is she trapped now?"

"I don't know." Bellamy replied with a low mutter, just praying that his reflexes had been quick enough and all the person saw was a very empty cavern, and Bellamy standing at the center of it. His own mind was racing frantically to answer Finn's question, and he was terrified to realize he didn't know at all what happened next.

He walked casually toward them, trying to think of anything he could say that wouldn't sound totally weird about the fact he was wandering a cave. Literally nothing came to mind.

The girl turned, her eyes flashing suspiciously, looking Bellamy up and down. He coughed.

"Hi-," He began, but she cut him off.

"Bellamy," she asked with little preamble, "What is this?"

Bellamy could feel his mother's invisible hand on his shoulder, her fingers quivering. He understood. All he could manage was a little and unsure lick of his lips.

"About that, O…"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know...I'm sure a lot of you were hoping it was Clarke. Her time is not here yet; it would be a missed opportunity if she found it by accidentally stumbling onto it. No, I have a much more dramatic plan for her MWAHAHAH. But what now? Has Octavia accidentally signed her own death warrant? I suppose you'll just have to wait...
> 
> You guys won't have to wait eons for an update because I had a total writing splurge and already wrote the next chapter, so it should be up within a reasonable amount of time (reasonable as in less than a month, I have many other fanfictions to tend to). I'm also writing what might be anywhere been a one-shot to a three-parter Bellarke AU that occurs on the Ark. Be on the look out for that!
> 
> In my personal life, relating to this DID ANYONE ELSE SEE THE TWO MIN LONG PROMO FOR SEASON 3 OF THE 100? It was seriously everything I wanted and didn't want to see at the same time XD At least we know it's not going to disappoint; I mean, I didn't think it would, but sometimes by the third season some TV shows loose it's spark that made it so good in the first two. True, it hasn't aired but I mean, c'mon...those promos were incredible and it was like shorter than most songs.
> 
> In a personal and also unrelated 100 note, I saw the new Star Wars movie. *star eyes* I'm so obsessed. You have no idea. And I'm such Rylo Ken trash...sigh...Anyone else with me?


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM LITERALLY POSTING THIS MOMENTS AFTER I WATCHED THE SEASON 3 PREMIERE. ALL THE FEELS. ALL OF THEM. *foams at mouth*. So satisfying :) I can't wait for the rest of the season! More about it in the end comments, although nothing too spolier-ish.
> 
> In a similar fashion, this chapter has many feels in it to. Not intentional to mix with the feels of the episode. What am I saying, I knew that the first episode was going to be awesome and make me feel things I haven't felt in a LONG time. But anyway, lots of emotions for the characters in this chapter. Sorry if it's a bit heavy, but I feel like this whole fanfiction is pretty heavy, ya know?
> 
> Be prepared for all the squishy feels in this chapter, and a cute Bellarke scene ;)

He did the one thing he'd been able to think of on his feet; lure Octavia up to his fanciful house on the rocks, and lock her in a utility closet.

It was childish, yes, but they were siblings and he couldn't have her wandering around until they figured out the damage of this for obvious reasons. He did feel guilty, only because he knew her dislike of small spaces, and his mother sent him disappointed glares. But what was he expected to do? He couldn't explain anything to her, because that conversation might likely end with, 'and because I was an idiot and let you follow me you're now trapped down here forever. Surprise?'

He shuddered. He might not be able to die, but he was almost positive Octavia would respond by breaking every bone in his body. He hoped this wasn't their only option, he hoped there was something out of this that wasn't damning her down here. He'd been so in his own mind after Timothy's death, he hadn't even thought that his sudden disappearance from camp would raise some questions, or that someone might go after him. He felt like such an idiot.

He was frantically flipping through his guide, and there were others just as nervously skimming through books, and occasionally someone would tap his shoulder and bring him a passage to deem if it was important or not. He had his mother, Wells, Maya, Finn, and Atom tearing through his library to find everything they could about humans taking casual trips to the underworld.

He could hear Octavia pounding on the door and yelling bloody murder at him even from his library. He wasn't sure how much longer that door would hold, it was pretty ancient. He'd set Greg outside of it in case she escaped. Firstly, she didn't know Greg so it wouldn't be like stumbling out to see Charlotte waving at her, the girl that was supposed to be dead, nor did he die from anything but old age, so he didn't look like a murder scene like Finn did. He knew his sister could take a lot of freaky things, but those two might just put her over the edge.

"When I get out of here, you'll be sorry you ever did this, you-," Everyone gave a slight wince at the string of profanities that followed, and Aurora looked concerned.

"Where in the world did my baby learn language like that?" She looked at Bellamy accusingly.

"Hey, not me." He said, holding up his hands, "The SkyBox is full of unruly teenagers, I'm sure she picked it up there." He accused. Finn blushed a bit.

"We don't have the cleanest vocabulary. We weren't exactly a happy bunch." Finn agreed, sending an apologetic look at Bellamy's mother. Atom gave a hum of agreement from the corner.

Bellamy slammed his book down in utter frustration, catching the attention of the gathered, all rapt and faces pale with concern. He was pretty sure Finn wasn't actually concerned about Octavia; he was worried that Clarke might follow him down here one day. He was simultaneously pissed off that he wasn't worried about his sister, but also concerned about the exact same thing. Wells might genuinely be worried; he was that sort of overwhelming nice.

"Okay." Bellamy pulled his fingers through his hair, "As far as I can tell, there are only a handful of actual lore about people visiting the underworld, and the rest are just things writers or whatever have made up and not to be taken seriously. There's Orpheus and Eurydice. Eurydice died, and Orpheus came down to retrieve her and hypnotized the guards and Hades with his music ability to let his wife go- they agreed, on a singular condition-his wife must follow, and he cannot look back at her. Like all myths, he fucked that up and looked back and she fell back into the underworld and he was never allowed back."

"That's comforting." Atom growled.

"Hercules came by help of the gods and fighting Hades in a battle. I'm not really liking the idea of fighting Octavia…I think she might win." He admitted to his chagrin, "But it might work in our favor, because obviously she could go back."

"There are others, though, right?" Maya seemed unsure.

"Yeah, Thesus wend down for Helen of Troy, and he too fought his way. He was trapped here, though, tricked by yours truly…at least in another life. He was rescued by Hercules. Aeneas came down for guidance, with a seer named Sybil. His trip was far more successful, as he managed to get in and out with an answer and didn't die along the way. Sisyphus came down, but his story is hardly comparable, and luckily I never hired a Thantantos."

"So what does it tell us, though? Those stories don't really have any clear connectives." Wells rubbed his chin.

"My guide was less than helpful; it doesn't seem as though the pervious Hades partook many human visitors down here that weren't dead, strange as that is." He let out a laugh, but no one else found it as amusing as he did. There was also a tense situation at hand, "I think…we're okay though. The one thing I know from my own recalling is that we absolutely should not feed her, though. That would be bad. It seems like Hades dictates most of what happens; if I say it shall be so, then it is. Whatever the hell I want." He flashed a knowing grin to Atom, whose face lit up in recollection.

There was a collective sigh.

"So…what are you going to tell her?" Aurora asked.

He paused; he hadn't gotten that far. He was focusing on willing his desire for Octavia to be able to leave this place to work, and hadn't realized that now that she'd seen this palace of a place a simple lie was proving to be the incorrect solution.

"I…don't know." He said nervously, wringing his hands. It was a lie…he did. He was going to tell her everything. What else could he do?

"So…we should scatter?" Maya asked, looking around. He gave a loud exhale.

"Yeah." Even if he was going to tell her, he wasn't sure she was ready for this sort of surprise. Eventually, maybe, but right now…he recalled how utterly overwhelming his first day was and how- if he had the choice- he would have pressed a giant stop button and taken all of it over a span of like a week. This much information that seemed to defy logic wasn't something any sane person should have to take in all at once.

Greg straightened as he approached the utility closet.

"I'll take of it from here, I'm sure Finn will explain what we've decided down there." He motioned to the waiting bay, "She's gone quiet."

"It's a lot to take in, even knowing nothing." Greg said wisely, "She looks like you. Sometimes, siblings only look a smidgen alike but you two…I can see it in your eyes."

Something about his comment warmed Bellamy, reminded him of the old days on the Ark when it was just he and Octavia. He'd told her everything back then; all the juicy gossip (she didn't know anyone, but it was still fun to tell her), the girls he liked, what he hated about both his jobs…it kept him sane just as much as it kept Octavia. It was only recently on earth that they'd grown so far apart, each of them sliding into their secrets more and more until he realized he couldn't even recall the last time they sat down for an honest conversation.

It made him sad.

In that way, he was relieved she came down. He wanted to tell her, wanted to let her in again. It would be so easy to let it all out, despite the difficult matter, he decided, because he was so used to spilling the most whispered secrets in her ear and watching her toes curl with delight. She halfway already knew most people on earth, because she'd heard almost whole lives about them from Bellamy, especially after he'd gotten his janitor job. People ignored sanitation workers, never knowing he was listening to every dirty deed they chattered to friends about, knew everything that was going on, even if he'd never met some.

Greg left and Bellamy inhaled, turning to face the door. This all must be so odd to her; she'd hardly ever seen closets on the Ark or Mount Weather, and for the first time he realized that apart from the closed confinements of the hole in the ground, Earth must be refreshing to her. It was a place where everyone was new to everything, and she didn't have to feel stupid and pretend to know what an object was when in reality she'd never seen it before.

Cautiously, expecting her to attack him with knives or other things, he unlocked the door, allowing her to open it herself. She didn't though, and when he took it upon himself to peer inside, and the concern about his sister was mirrored in her own eyes. She didn't look as fired up anymore, she was calmed. Her face was morphed into a perpetual frown, never changing as she glanced all around, past Bellamy to the wide expanse of his Hades Home.

"O?" He asked, tilting his head. He'd expected screaming and fighting. He would have been better prepared for that. The silence of his sister unnerved him. She forced a long breath out through her nose.

"Bellamy, what the hell is going on?" She asked, her voice controlled and pressed into firmly with a million motions all at once; fear, anger, concern, shock, and a couple others he didn't know.

"Come with me." He held out a hand. He steered her to his bedroom, where there was a large bed with the fluffiest white sheets he'd ever felt. He hoped it would make her feel more at ease. He bounced onto the bed with her, and she grabbed one of his many pillows, tugging it against her chest for comfort.

"Why doesn't anyone know about this place?" She looked around, licking her lips, "Why are you keeping this to yourself? We could all easily fit down there, it's hardly cold and-," She began to ramble before he could get a word in edge wise. The side of the warrior she'd started to morph into had vanished, leaving a confused and scared little girl.

Bellamy opened his mouth.

"Octavia…there's something I want to tell you. Not just because you followed me, but because I've wanted to tell someone forever." He admitted, partially to himself. He had rather hoped perhaps he'd find the courage one day to tell Clarke first, but his sister was equally a good person to confide in. She stopped, staring at something past him.

He turned, wincing deeply to see Atom in all his burned glory standing at the door. Bellamy threw him a dark look, one that demanded an explanation without saying anything at all. Atom gulped, rubbing his scalp.

"I just…" He trailed off, almost sounding apologetic, but his eyes locked with Octavia's. He turned back, and her jaw had practically unhinged. At first, he thought the boy's ragged appearance was frightening to Octavia since he was also supposed to be very dead, but there was something else lingering in her gaze.

"Atom?" Her voice was soft, scarce. She put the pillow down, treading over to him. Bellamy had all but forgotten that in the first days of being here they'd been something. Not that he didn't think his sister loved Lincoln more passionately than anyone could love another, but he also truly believed that Atom and Octavia did feel similar emotions that could have been just as strong in another life. He'd heard from Miller that Atom's cell was next to his sister's on the SkyBox. Even though his sister had been in solitary confinement, Atom had seen her through the bars and they'd locked eyes occasionally-he just hadn't known she'd been the girl living in the floor. Perhaps that's what drew them to each other in the beginning. He felt guilty for being so overprotective of her, being so cruel to Atom about it too. He felt guilty about a lot of things.

"I-," Atom sent a frantic look at Bellamy, stifling as Octavia's hand pressed against his scorched cheek. He seemed to melt into her gentle touch, face relaxing against her palm.

Octavia turned to Bellamy, tears beginning to escape down her cheeks. She looked at Atom again, as if he was a mirage that would vanish at any moment, but his hand came up to reassuringly touch Octavia's palm still on his cheek. "How?" She demanded, voice rough and pained, "How is he here, and why are you not freaking out? Why does he feel so real?" There was a whimper he'd never heard his sister use trailing her last question, and it nearly broke him.

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about." Bellamy gave a forced smile, "Come here." He motioned to her. She retracted her hand, but bit her lip, looking to Atom's star-struck face. Yes, Atom was still pining for his sister, he could tell. Bellamy wondered if anyone had ever told him she was with Lincoln now?

"Can he stay?" Octavia asked, looking to him, then in a more commanding tone, "He will stay, right?"

"If he wants." Bellamy gave with a permissive nod, and Atom awkwardly sat on the ground near the bed, staring up at Octavia as if she were the god instead of Bellamy.

"Where do I even begin?" Bellamy asked himself, truly unsure, "I suppose, and I'm going to sound crazy but I guess it's good Atom showed up because well…" He twirled his fingers, "I can sort of see dead people. And they're all here, everyone's that died. I'm their leader…Hades."

There was a long silence and Bellamy wondered if he'd come on too strong. Finally, Octavia gave a strangled bark of laughter.

"Hades, like the stories you used to tell me?" She said, giving something between a snort and a chuckle, "I just…okay?" He could tell from the way she looked between himself, Atom, and where she was sitting she was trying to decide if she wanted to believe him or not.

"It's true." Atom said, also sensing her hesitations, "Everyone who's died is here. Bellamy is going to finally give us peace."

Octavia opened her mouth to argue, or at the very least say something, but instead nothing came out. He'd never seen his sister speechless before.

"So they are real. Not just like ghosts or something?" She said, trying to process.

"Ish. I'm still figuring out the mechanics myself." Bellamy admitted, "But yes, I would wager to say they are real, just a little less…here at times." He added, thinking back to when he vanished them away with a simple of wave of his hand.

"And this?"

"Where all the previous Hades lived before me. Pretty nice, huh?" He asked, grinning, trying to lighten the mood.

Octavia was gnawing on her lip, "Everyone?"

"Yeah."

"Is…mom here?"

The question surprised him, even though if he was being honest, he knew that question was well on it's way. He tried to see how Octavia was feeling; he'd always been far closer to his mother. Octavia had grown jaded toward her in her years leading up to her taken to the SkyBox, for having a child illegally and making Octavia feel as though often she wasn't thriving…just merely staying alive. She'd confided in Bellamy amount her feelings toward their mother on more than one occasion. She'd even been mad more than sad when their mother was floated. He tried to understand how alone she often felt, pressed into a space that hardly fit a ten-year-old and much less a sixteen-year-old, and having a mother that was often difficult to get to know because of the layer of metal between them.

"I said everyone you can think of that's died." He said, answering the question without saying a direct yes.

"Does she want to see me?"

"Do you want to see her?"

A pained look crossed Octavia's face.

"I don't know." She whispered, "That makes me an awful daughter, doesn't it? She'll hate me for that." She pressed her head into her palms, "I just don't know if I'm ready, Bell."

"And that's fine." Bellamy was quick to comfort her, and he was a bit relieved, which likely made him an awful brother, "It's a lot to take in today. Maybe we should take it slow."

"So I can come back. I can leave?"

"I have to be with you, but yes. I don't know the full dynamics, but I can will your presence to be non-trappable. Or something. I guess I could also be considered a guide. No one was really clear, but you can leave." He said. She relaxed.

"Phew, thought I was stuck here forever. By the way, I'm a starved- got kitchen anywhere in this place?" She asked, staring to get up.

"No!" Bellamy grabbed her wrist, "Erm, that's the one thing that will keep you here, food. Can't eat while you're here." He said apologetically.

"Darn." She sighed, "How do you know all this stuff?" She questioned.

"This." He lifted the book from his pocket, grinning proudly. Octavia looked unconvinced, but when she took it from his hands and began to leaf through, a small gasp escaped her lips.

"This is not just a book of myths." She said under her breath, very softly leafing through it.

"You knew what it was before? You saw it as just myths, but now you see the journal?" Bellamy filed this under his mind folder of things he didn't fully understand, but maybe you had to see a ghost or something to be able to access this. Or visit the underworld. He wasn't sure.

"I mean, yeah." Octavia gave him an odd look, then added with a smirk, "Bell, everyone at camp knows you're totally obsessed with some weird book you never let go of, except of course when it got passed around a bit when you were asleep. We were all disappointed and pretty confused to see it was just myths. I mean, if it was anything useful, Kane would have taken it away a long time ago." She said, waving her hand.

"You took it while I was asleep?" He growled, narrowing his eyes.

"Oh, calm down! We were just curious, you know? Now I understand…"She said, knowledge leaking into her eyes as she studied it, "The writing on the back," She ran her fingers over the etching, "That wasn't here either. There's a lot to learn about being a leader of dead people, I guess."

"You have no idea." Bellamy gave a loud laugh, one that cleansed all his anxiety away. He didn't know why he found the statement so truly funny, but something about it was. This time, Octavia smiled back.

"You know, we probably should get going before someone sends someone else out to find me. It won't be Lincoln; he's terrified of this place! I guess I see why now." She tilted her head.

"Of course." Bellamy almost smacked himself, "It's been a long time. Atom, tell everyone down there to leave us alone. I'll be back as soon as I can, but I need to take her back up and go account for my other duties." He instructed, and Atom fell into his command swiftly.

Octavia sprung up, engulfing Atom in a tight hug, one that surprised both boys. She looked back up at him, smiling sadly, "I'm glad I saw you. I'll…" She turned, looking at Bellamy, "Will I ever be back here?"

"Entirely up to you." He said.

"One day, for mom. Just not today." She said, and turned back to Atom, "I will be back. I'm sorry about it all…" She choked on her words a little, and Atom shrugged.

"It's okay." He mumbled, "I got to see earth. That was worth it. You were worth it."

Bellamy winced at his softened gaze. Someone would defiantly have to tell him that (even if Octavia were dead) she was pretty much off the market. Finn maybe.

"Atom." He prompted, and luckily the boy left without trying to steal a kiss.

Bellamy put his arm around her neck, leading her down the steps and up to the entrance. Neither looked back.

The air outside was much chillier than down there, but Bellamy scarcely noticed. He only realized when she shivered, even though his sister had a coat on. To him…it didn't bother him. He didn't feel could, even though he knee he should.

Octavia looked at the mountain with an odd expression on her face. "Everyone's down there." It was more a statement.

"Yeah."

"Is Timothy?" She asked suddenly, "I forgot about him! But that's why you left, right? Is he okay?"

"He's with his mom now." Bellamy said, "I felt him dying. It was surreal, you know? I have all these powers now that I still don't understand. I didn't even think about the fact I was leaving camp, I just…deep down, I wanted to be wrong and come back, sheepish for leaving but seeing his face still up here. And it was the first person I knew that died since getting this job, as odd as that is. I felt like I needed to be there. I was his leader up here, and I'm his leader down there. He was a child. He needed to feel welcome, loved, unafraid as he passed over. A familiar face." He was breathless, and Octavia just listened as he spilled.

"You were thinking of Charlotte when he died, weren't you?" She questioned. Something still tugged deep in him.

"Yeah." He said, "I was."

"You're a good leader, Bell. Really, I mean it." To Bellamy, hearing her say that was the highest praise he could ever imagine getting. He glowed from the pride.

"I…thanks. I'm really trying." He paused, "Why did you follow me?"

"Clarke asked me to," Octavia said, "I mean, I'm sure she would have followed you herself, but she well…" She kicked a snowdrift.

"Oh, of course." Bellamy shoved his cold fingers in his pockets, "She needs to be there."

"She told me you seem to go to that cave we explored when you're upset, but she never said anything about you going inside of it. It took me a long time to find the entrance, you know. At first I thought she was wrong, and then I stepped into that…place." She settled for an uncolorful world.

"Hell."

"Yeah."

"There's a beauty to the place, though. As awful as it is, there are the tall ceilings, the water, where I could live one day. I mean, the architecture itself- what?" He cut off, seeing Octavia holding back her laughter.

"I swear, sometimes I forget I have a total un-cool nerd for a brother." She rolled her eyes, "Architecture? How about being a freaking death god?"

He gave a dismissive grunt, "That too, I guess."

"I don't know when or if I want to go back." She told him, brows creasing, "There's so much guilt there, it's stifling. So many regrets."

"I know." Bellamy felt those feelings too, like weight pressing down on his chest every time he went down there. To someone that didn't have to be there, he realized it might be utterly overwhelming, "I'm not going to force you. Totally up to you if you ever want to revisit. I have to. Even if I wasn't Hades…I have a lot to work out." He dragged a hand down his face. Octavia gave him a curious look.

"All the Mount Weather people are there." He said, and Octavia's eyes widened.

"I guess they would be." As though she'd never thought of that, "Wow." Her tone was remorseful.

"Yeah. But you know, I didn't go back down there for a long time after the first time." He told her, "I understand if you don't. I mean, I didn't have someone to clarify what was happening, not really. I just thought I was going crazy, ate those nuts and was having a creepy hallucination." He admitted.

"Maybe it still is one. Maybe both are experiencing it together?" She told him, half-joking.

"I kind of hope not," He admitted, realizing it himself, "There's a lot of good I feel like I'm doing down there. If I'm just talking to empty walls well, then…"

"I don't think it's hallucinations." Octavia retracted, "Mom's down there…" She whispered to herself, "I feel so conflicted blamed you for her death and deep down a bad part of me still believes it, but I also blamed mom for everything I never could be. I blame a lot of people for my own shit, I suppose. I just don't know how I could face her, knowing I was almost glad when she was floated." Her voice was small, "She'd know."

"Mom loves you." Bellamy rubbed her arms, "She always asks about you, it's the first thing she does. She's so excited to hear every boring detail of your life now, drills me about it for hours! She doesn't seem quite as interested as what I'm doing."

Octavia brightened, "Really?"

"Would I lie?"

They were at the entrance to the camp now, and the sky was very dark. It was late into the night, yet Bellamy could still detect movement-much more than usual- from inside the barriers.

"Bell?" Octavia's voice was soft, "I'm glad you let me know what's going on…even if you were sort of left with no choice. You still had a choice." She was gnawing on her lip. She seemed so much younger; vulnerable almost now, even though her tight braids and slightly smudged black eyes reminded him she was stronger than he was.

Bellamy smiled, chuckling. "I'm glad I told you. I'm glad you're my annoying sister and followed like a total weirdo." He admitted, "You go in…I need a moment, or three."

He expected Octavia to argue, but instead, she merely dipped her head, rubbed her exposed arms, and scurried inside.

PROTA

Clarke noticed Octavia come back right away; she had after all grabbed the headstrong girl as soon as she saw Bellamy bolt out of camp. She would have gone after him herself, but there was so much in the aftermath of Timothy's death she didn't feel comfortable pulling herself away.

Now, it was quieter, although not completely stilled. She was needed less, expected to mourn like everyone else. She intercepted her, her eyes sinking with concern when she didn't notice the older Blake following.

"Did you-,"

"I found him." Octavia said, "He's just, I don't know." She sighed, "Shook up."

It was understandable. No one had been expecting this. Not even Clarke or her mother, who were doctors for gosh sakes! She felt stupid; that perhaps there had been signs she was just too uneducated to see. They didn't know anything about earth's diseases. Maybe her ancestors would have laughed in her face for missing what could have been obvious to them. Maybe Timothy could have been saved.

"Are you okay, Octavia?" There was a changed look to her, something that was unsettling. Something had spooked her. It could be Timothy, it could be something else. The only thing Clarke knew is that before Timothy's death, she didn't look at all like this.

"I'm fine, of course." She said airily, but there wasn't the fullness of a convincing answer behind it, "Just thinking through it all."

"Do you need to talk about it?" Clarke's voice softened.

"No, there's nothing to talk about." Octavia's voice sharpened, and she pried herself from Clarke's grip, "I'm fine, I told you." She said this with more earnestly. Clarke opened her mouth to argue, because she obviously wasn't totally okay, but recalled what Raven had told her before…you can only help those that want to be helped. Octavia clearly did not think she needed help. Besides, if anything was bothering her, she might tell Lincoln and her boyfriend was more than prepared to fix things.

"Okay." Clarke stepped back, making it clear she wasn't going to bother her about it again, "Where is he?"

"Outside." She jerked a finger back, "He's thinking too." She bit her lip carefully, "He might want to talk about it." Her voice wasn't certain, but she could also tell that Octavia knew something. She wasn't sure if it was important quite yet.

Clarke grabbed her jacket from her cot and came outside to find Bellamy just staring up into the inky blackness.

"Bellamy?"

Her voice startled him, and he turned toward her.

"Oh," His voice was rough, "Hey princess…"

"Are you okay?" She asked, and she very much expected the curtness that his sister had given. Sometimes, it was so obvious those two were related. Instead, she saw something that utterly mystified her…tears.

Bellamy had never cried before, at least not in front of her. He hadn't even cried when they were burying the bodies from Mount Weather, and Clarke had been sobbing then. He hadn't cried at any of the other monstrosities of their friends dying at other times, but for some reason, this night held onto his emotions like a floodgate.

"I don't know." His answer was candid, but raw.

It was so much more than just Timothy, Clarke could already tell. Something deeper, more poignant in meaning, lurked beneath his blazing brown eyes, something that if she stared hard enough, she feared she might drown in. His sadness pulled on her, pulled her toward him.

There weren't a lot of tears; he didn't break out in ugly sobs in front of her, and he did his best to wipe the stray one away when he realized it, yet Clarke saw the wetness glistening at the edges.

She didn't know how to sooth him, what to say, how to express how profoundly she felt his pain like it was a mirror of her own, so instead she just hugged him.

It was a similar feeling to that day he'd returned, and she forgot herself in that moment and threw herself into his arms. The same feeling of relief and a need to be near him. That time, it had taken him a couple long moment where she wondered if she'd made a mistake by hugging him before he'd embraced her back. Once he had, though, she knew it wasn't a mistake.

This hug, it took him less than a second to melt in her tiny embrace, burying his nose into her hair, arms pulling her against him in a way that would have been intimate in any other occasion, and Clarke could feel his shoulders tightening and his body trembling as he tried not to cry again. She let him stay like that for what seemed like a very long time, a lifetime, but she didn't quite care. His scent, earthy and strong, was overpowering and he was warm and she could hear his heart fluttering frantically as her ear lay against his chest.

Finally, he retracted only by a bit, just enough so he could rest his forehead against hers. He seemed more put together now.

"What happened?" She whispered. She watched the snow collect on his eyelashes, his eyes downcast toward his feet. He seemed a little taken off-guard by her question, as though he couldn't quite answer it himself, but finally he found some words to answer.

"I thought of Charlotte." He replied back, each word very carefully said, as though he needed to make his thoughts perfectly clear to her, "I thought of Dak. Atom. Maya. Finn. Wells. Fox. Connor. Cage. Dante. My mom. Your father."

A shiver ran through Clarke, touched not only that he was thinking of people such as Finn, but also people he hardly ever talked to, and perhaps had even disliked- such as Wells, or Cage. Most of all though, the fact that even for maybe a tiny second, her own father had crossed his mind, held some soft feeling of affection within her.

"Bellamy…" It was truly the only thing she could say, and she reached up to touch his face with her hand. He brought a large hand up and held it there, eyes closed.

"So much death. I hadn't…it didn't…we keep loosing our own, and as a leader, I feel so helpless, sometimes." Clarke said, breaking the silence, speaking her own words and feelings.

"I'm sure Timothy's okay." Bellamy said, and there was a confidence in his town that Clarke wished she could possess.

"What if he feels like, wherever he is, that we failed him? What if he's alone? What if he feels unloved? He's just a child." Clarke felt her breath quicken, and she wondered why- like everyone else- this child was so much affecting her? Perhaps because it was the first death within their own group from something that was perhaps beyond their control, and something utterly normal at that, and not an invader or a genetic disease.

"He's with his mom." Bellamy didn't even skip a beat, "I mean, I would think." He added after.

Clarke sniffled, and gave a wry laughter. Her hand was still on his face. She brought it into her body, slowly, stuffing her palms under her armpits for warmth.

"I thought I was supposed to be comforting you." She chuckled, "How did this happen?"

"Perhaps we both needed it." He said, and she could tell from the dullness of his eyes he still didn't feel completely better. She herself still had an empty feeling within her chest, but maybe this was as well as they could help themselves in this moment. She had often heard her mother discuss in many a situation the importance of time in healing, and not just for physical wounds. Emotional wounds were just as important to keep track of, she had told patients, and not to neglect time to let those grow better as well.

"I'm glad you came out here." He said.

"I was worried. I would have come after you, but someone had to…" She paused, "Burry him. In case he was contagious."

"So you let yourself go in harms way?" There was a disapproving tone to his voice, deep frustration.

"It wasn't fair to make anyone else do it. All the doctors pitched in." She said, and for the first time noticed he didn't have a jacket on, "Aren't you cold?"

"Oh." Bellamy looked down, as though just noticing his short-sleeve shirt, "Not…really." He sounded confused.

"We should go in soon." Clarke said, but her voice trailed off. Bellamy looked at the high walls, nodding.

"Yeah." But neither of them moved an inch, because neither of them wanted to. Instead, they did the exact opposite and sat underneath the shade of a tree, where the snow was not piled up as much. Clarke's fingers were beginning to turn red with cold, and she shoved them into her pockets. Bellamy still didn't seem to be registering the cold.

"Did I…was I missed?" Bellamy asked, and Clarke could see the guilt on his face.

"Not at all. Everyone was affected by Timothy's death in different ways, a lot just sort of look tired. We don't need a leader tonight, we need time to grieve." Her eyes wandered to the bend of the camp wall where behind it, she could hear the gentle sobs occasionally and see the flicker of light where his father and people that knew Timothy were sitting by the gravesite.

"Tomorrow we'll need a leader." She added stronger, "The camp will undoubtedly settle into panic because we can't hide the fact this winter is kicking our asses, and the sickness is spreading. We'll need to have people who are calm and can assure the group that despite this, we will prevail and most of us will make it out alive, and make better plans. We can't be like this tomorrow, so we're given the night." She said, waving her hand between them, "I don't even know if anyone noticed your absence. If they did, I hardly think they were thinking deeply about it. Octavia hadn't even seen it until I brought it up." She said.

"I think I should be more offended, in a way." He teased, "But you would notice." He added.

"What's that mean?"

"You seem to keep tabs on me." He shrugged, and then added a little more timidly, "I don't mind."

"We should go in." Clarke repeated, blushing. Once again, there was a prolonged silence between them before they both opened their mouths.

Clarke said, "Do you think tonight you could-," at the same time Bellamy said, "I don't want to be alone tonight." Clarke only managed to get half her confession out before she realized they were speaking in tandem. Yet, their sentiments were the same. Neither wanted to be alone tonight, and neither wanted to go back into the camp where they'd have responsibility and duties, but being together might make it bearable.

"One second." Bellamy said, standing and bushing off his pants, "Stay here." He instructed. Clarke watched with curiosity as he slipped into the camp. What seemed like forever but was likely only ten minutes, he came back out with his hands full.

"What's that?"

"Well, our intention about tonight was…clear." He shrugged, "It was either your cot or mine and I don't think either of us want to hear what your mother or our friends would say if we did."

"True." Clarke said, nodding. He had brought out a heavy sleeping back, their pillows, and an extra wool blanket. She watched as he cleared the snow from underneath them, shoving the blanket inside the sleeping bag, and placing their pillows within the lining.

"We shouldn't get too cold. It's only a few hours until dawn anyway. If we're not up ourselves by then, Miller's on duty and he'll wake us."

"Do you trust him?" She asked, meaning about the two of them.

"Yes." Bellamy was quick to answer, "He's my best friend and fiercely loyal. He's pretty quiet too, I've never heard him gossip before about something that wasn't already common knowledge. He's just that sort of guy." He assured.

"Fine." Clarke was too tired, too emotional, and far too happy with this arrangement to argue. They settled into the warmth of the sleeping bag, Clarke half on her pillow and half using Bellamy's chest as cushions, his arms wrapping around her. He kissed her forehead, and although the motion surprised her, she didn't jerk away.

"Goodnight Princess." He mumbled, already falling asleep against her. Clarke didn't realize how exhausted she was until her own eyelids began to drop as the circling warmth of the blankets and Bellamy's own body lulled her into a sense of utter security.

Clarke meant to answer him, but she too tired. Bellamy was asleep already so it didn't matter. And Clarke shifted into slumber with the most calming sense of the world she'd had in a very long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was that not cute or what? SQUEEE! Yes, I know I make them fall asleep next to each other pretty often (this was twice) but when I think of their relationship I think of night, and quietness, and confessions most people don't have the courage to make during the day. For them, when they're both being idiots and not admitting feelings for each other, it's also safe in a way. But this is, as you could guess, a turning point for them and their more romantic relationship.
> 
> I have so many feelings about that new episode tho. I could write a whole novel about everything, but I won't A) because you guys aren't here to read that and B) I know maybe a lot of you won't have seen it until later, like I used to only be able to see it the day after. So if anyone has and wants to totally nerd out with me about it or has a specific question about what I thought about something, feel free to add it in your review.
> 
> I do want to add two things though that I thought perfectly fit in with the story, that aren't too spoiler-ish.
> 
> 1) Bellamy gets given a gift of the Illiad (at least I think it was that; it was a epic from Greek/Roman literature, for sure)! Totally still the nerd we love, and that harkens back to the underworld, where he goes in the story and I think I even mentioned in in this chapter. Weird, eh?
> 
> 2) Clarke is now called 'Wanheda' which loosely translates to 'God of Death' or something in a similar vein, which, really fits with this story, and so that made me happy. Course it's Bellamy whose the God of Death, but wouldn't it have been interesting if I had made this a reverse AU where Clarke was 'Hades' and Bellamy was the 'Persephone'? Just a thought...
> 
> Tell me what you thought of this chapter/and or what you thought of the new episode. I'm excited to hear about both of them :)


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yessss I'm back :)

"Hello! Hello? Bell, focus!" His sister was snapping her fingers in his face in the most obnoxious way she could possibly imagine. He snapped from his reverie, glaring hard at her.

"It's a little difficult, you know?" He snorted, crossing his arms. She stood, hands on her hips and clicked her tongue.

"You're distracted.' She observed, as though it wasn't obvious. He glanced at her, in her braided hair and pelted clothes that half looked like a grounder, and frowned. She'd been dressing more and more like that, hadn't she lately? Then again, she never really was a Sky Person, always excluded by being a second child, so it was natural she found more of a footing here. Yet, since Lexa was gone indefinably, she wasn't a grounder either. Her and Lincoln were some strange in between right now. It was just another thing to add to his list of unending thoughts.

"No shit, O." He said, staring at the ground, "And how can I?" He gave a pointed look. If his sister were at all sympathetic, she'd drop her drill-instructor persona. She knew as well as he did how hard life had been in the past two and a half months. Winter had come harshly, coating the entire world in white. And they'd just lost many people just because they were unprepared. People didn't know snow could freeze you so fast, they didn't have good enough supplies for food, people caught and spread diseases and colds so much faster when they were all stuffed together...it seemed sometimes that this would be what would kill them all when they'd gotten through so much already. The number of children and elderly that had passed killed him, if he could die that is, and that wasn't all. There had been casualties among people in between that bracket to, the most difficult one of the camp being Wick's death. He'd fallen through the ice and no matter how hard Clarke tried to resuscitate him, it had been too long that he'd been desperately clawing the frozen lake to try to get out. Raven hadn't spoken to anyone since that had happened two weeks ago.

And not only was Bellamy constantly plagued by trying to save his people above ground, he was also trying to manage the people below ground. Imagine Wick's surprise when he'd waltzed up and apologized, less than a day after his death? He was glad he could comfort the man at least a tiny bit. But he couldn't tell Raven anything, and seeing her blank expression was hard.

Between trying to spend his time at both places without casting suspicion, his mind was always at the other, leaving him tired and cranky. If he were mortal, he probably wouldn't survive long.

"Well, that's your problem!" Octavia said loudly, and he glanced up at her with long eyes, "It says right here 'clear your mind'." She pushed the book up in his face.

"Yes, yes. I've read the book." He said, snatching it back from her and slamming it with an audible clap. He tucked it inside his jacket, his frustration mounting. Octavia had taken it upon herself to be his helper on this side of the world, sort of like Finn, in the way that she had devoured his handbook and practically committed it to memory. She helped him make excuses and handle his workload. Currently, they were practicing shadow-walking.

"You know you have to get this." For the first time that day, her voice softened. He grimaced.

"I know, I know."

It was a tool that most Hades perfected within the first couple years of their reign. He was attempting to do it in the first couple months. It gave him the ability to transfer himself wherever a shadow lay; theoretically, he could go all the way around the world. Some Hades had used this method to collect the souls personally, assuring people on their deathbeds it would all be okay.

He personally needed to just use it to get between one colony to the other.

"It's far too long to walk nearly like an hour to get there." Octavia continued, stating things he knew to be true, "I'm running out of excuses." She frowned.

"Yeah, I know." He agreed, his voice breaking into anger. She blinked at him, and looked at the sun. Luckily, as the day shortened they'd only have more shadows to practice with, so time wasn't of the essence unless you counted the fact that he needed to learn it soon. When they could learn it was luckily easy to find time during the winter.

"Perhaps we should break…" Octavia said quietly, "And get food. You still eat, right?" He wasn't sure if she was teasing or not.

"Yes, O." He rolled his eyes, "I still eat. You read just like I did that most gods don't lose their hunger until a centaury in the job. My stomach is growling." He said, mouth watering just thinking of food.

"Just making sure." Octavia shrugged, "You know, more for me if you didn't." She sighed. Rations were heavy as of now, because although they'd been good and made a smokehouse early a month and a half ago, it was hard to find food enough to fill everyone's stomachs. The stockpile within Mount Weather had been devoured by the previous inhabitants, and while they had farms down there, it had taken a toll too since the door had opened.

Back at camp, people slowly moved about, hands shoved into long jackets and furs wrapped around their faces. It was an odd mishmash of clothes from the Ark, clothes from Mount Weather, and skins from animals they'd found. They shuffled into the food line, Octavia shivering into her rabbit fur gloves.

"Aren't you freezing, Blake?" Miller asked incredulously, and Bellamy realized he'd left winter jacket back where he'd been practicing with Octavia. One perk of being a god, thus so far, is that he wasn't bothered by these temperatures. Slightly below thirty, a cracked thermometer told them. He still got cold, just not like everyone else anymore.

"Uh, left my jacket out there. O and I were sparring. Got sweaty, you know?" He lied quickly and Miller just gave a slow shake of his head.

"You're crazy, man." He laughed.

"It's only going to get colder." Lincoln said, also wearing little jackets. For him, apparently, this wasn't the worst of it, "Another ten or so degrees drop and then you'll appreciate how the cold can be." He came up and kissed Octavia on the head. She swatted him away.

"Yo, you got food yet?" She asked.

"If you're asking for my portion, you're asking the wrong person." He rolled his eyes.

"But you love me." She whined.

"And I'm hungry too. I've been hunting all day." He said. Octavia's ears perked up.

"Any luck?"

"A couple rabbits," Lincoln answered distastefully, "A sparrow or two. I don't understand why this winter is so much worse than others. Birds are sad catching."

"It wasn't like this before?" Miller questioned, frowning.

"No, usually we can find enough game to sustain us without growing too hungry. And our numbers tripled yours." Lincoln's face contorted into deep lines.

"Do you think…the other grounders are back?" Bellamy wondered, although all the grounders that had come through claimed to be gone to better weather, migrant and continually on the move. They could be lying though, although in death he didn't think their honor meant too much anymore.

"No." Lincoln said, "You might be able to tell, but I would."

They reached the front of the line, and when they were handed their stews, Monroe- the person dolling it out- handed Bellamy a second one.

"What do I gotta do to get that kind of service?" Octavia asked, looking at it longingly.

"It's for Clarke." Monroe said, looking at Bellamy, "She's been holed up in her bed all day with a cold. I was going to bring her some after, but now that you're here I'm sure you just can."

Anyone in this line could have brought Clarke soup, but Bellamy didn't miss the meaning behind Monroe apparently deciding it could be him. It warmed him, but then his mind processed that she was sick. He stiffened, fear clutching him.

"Is she okay?"

"Yeah, just a cold, Abby says. Everyone get them."

"You go find her. We'll finish our practice later." Octavia said, poking her brother in the arm. He nodded absently, and used his shoulder to brush back the heavy carpets being used as doorways for the wigwam. There were a few people snoozing inside, the enclosure dim without fires dotting the area. Clarke had a tiny candle going next to hers, and she had about five blankets on top of herself. She was completely rolled in them, so just her nose and above was visible.

He breathed out, setting the soup down and carefully touching a hand to her forehead. She was indeed burning up, but not near death, as he quickly surmised. He was still learning out how to control this power as well, most he could tell was when someone was hours away from death. Clarke was giving him that sort of signal at all.

Deep down, he knew he shouldn't be so worried. Yes, everyone got colds. He'd even gotten one, and he didn't know gods of death could get the sniffles (apparently, yes). But the idea that she could be sick, it could have been something more, made his entire body panic at the thought.

"Clarke." He shook her awake. She blinked blearily at him, glaring for a moment before realizing whom it was.

"Oh," Her throat sounded raw and her nose congested so all her words came out funny, "What are you doing here?"

"Dinner." He held up the soup, "Some vegetable and…" He sniffed it, "Lots of garlic with…that might be the rest of that deer."

"Oh, well, not the worst." Clarke said, sitting up. He glanced at her cautiously.

"How do you feel?" He questioned.

"Awful." She moaned, "Hot and cold at the same time, my arms feel like jelly, and I can't really breathe."

Bellamy suppressed a quiet laugh. "Did you never get colds on the Ark, Princess?"

"Not really." She muttered, "It was just cleaner and more segregated. Harder to come in contact with it." She sighed.

"You're around dying people all the time. I'm surprised you didn't get it sooner." He watched her sip at her soup slowly, and although once again he knew she was fine, he couldn't not watch her.

"Yeah, I guess." She muttered, and shivered.

"Don't you have better things to be doing today than bring me soup? It's your day off." Clarke realized suddenly, scrutinizing him.

"No, 'course not. I'm just wandering around the forest anyway." He shrugged, "Exploring a bit. It's not really pressing."

"You're being careful though, right? You don't know what's out there in winter. You could get hurt." Clarke said and Bellamy resisted the urge to scoff. Of course she didn't know little at all could hurt him, but nevertheless her worry warmed him. They'd been dancing around their feelings for what seemed like eons now, and as much as he wanted to lean forward and kiss her, damn her sickness, he hesitated. He was already failing trying just to balance the two worlds he so precariously startled now. To bring her into this when he didn't quite know how to figure things out himself yet? No, he couldn't.

So, instead he leaned back as not to tempt himself and stood up. "I'm careful, as always."

"Good. You have to come back to me. I don't know what I'd do without you." She chuckled, looking at her soup, "Wouldn't get fed, for one." She teased. He bit his lip hard. It was the closet either of them had come yet, and he wondered if Clarke was gathering courage or she was waiting for him. Either way, she looked down- perhaps feeling stupid for saying something or content in just saying that- and yawned.

"You sleep. I'll be back tonight, of course." He nodded and she set her bowl beside her bed before falling back asleep.

He found Octavia cheering on Jasper and Monty who were currently playing a one-on-one game of soccer on a patch of ice near the edge of camp.

"They're going to break their legs." Bellamy huffed, "And Clarke isn't well enough to do it. Abby will be pissed." He said, shaking his head. Clarke often quickly stitched up their friends before the adults caught wind of it.

"Shit, I forgot." Octavia frowned, "Eh…they'll be fine."

"I want to continue practicing." Bellamy said, and Octavia stood immediately. He felt re-energized, motivated. If he could just get a handle on being a leader in one of these realms, he could try to get somewhere with Clarke. Although he wasn't sure he even liked being Hades, at least he wasn't constantly being undermined there by other leaders. He made all the rules down there.

They went back to the same place they'd been before. It was darker now, the shadows were more pronounced. Octavia watched him with excited eyes.

"We're gunna get it. I feel it! Now, focus." She said.

Bellamy didn't have to be told twice. He stepped into the shadows and closed his eyes, focusing hard. The book did a shoddy way of trying to explain the whole affair, but then again, it was hard for him to describe himself now that he sort of knew what to do. It was more an instinct than a learned skill, though.

He could feel his body stretching out, connecting with the individual particles in the darkness, touching matter around him. It was a strange concept, like sticking your hand in water that was exactly the same temperature as you were…that's how he felt. It was in this moment he was very aware that there was always air around him, like water, except they could breathe it.

He imagined a dark shadow underneath a pillar in his house in the Underworld, reaching out to the matter there, trying to grasp water in his bare hands. Then, as though someone had flipped a switch, he could touch it. Not grab it, not really touch it, but he felt the darkness around him bending to his will. He faintly heard his sister's concerned voice above him.

"Bell? My god, are you okay?" She said, reaching out to grab his hand. There was a tone of terror in her voice, and he grasped it to tell her he was fine, "You're flick-,"

He blinked open and found himself standing at the base of that pillar.

"-ering." Octavia finished her thought. She hadn't ever stopped, though. The movement was instantaneous. He didn't feel himself being thrown from one place on the world to another. How peculiar.

"Oh god, O." He said, realizing he'd accidentally brought along a passenger. It didn't say anywhere he could do that, unless he was collecting souls, "I didn't mean to bring you back here." He said, wincing. She had decided about a week ago she didn't want to return to the Underworld even if she could come and go, for obvious reasons.

"Whoa." Her eyes widened and he wondered if she hadn't fully realized what had happened to them until now, "Bell! You did it!" She threw her arms around him.

"Yeah." He said and realized he felt winded. Then came the nausea, "Damn, I don't think I'll be able to do it back."

"You do look a little green." Octavia agreed, "Actually," She revised, "A little transparent…"

"How are you? You're…mortal."

"I feel fine. I mean, it sort of feels like my skin is crawling with ants, but I mean, none of my limbs are attached in strange places, so that's a plus, right?" Bellamy gave her a scathing look.

"Be serious."

"Look, the other Hades brought nearly dead people that way often. I'm sure I'm okay." She seemed brazen even though it could have had altering side-affects, "Hey, I'm gunna explore. Didn't get a chance to do it last time. We'll walk back when you're feeling better." She said.

"O!" He called after her retreating figure, gnashing his teeth, "Just…don't eat anything!"

"I'm not stupid!" She called back.

He sighed, and decided that while he was here he might as well check up on things, get some work done.

Finn frowned when he appeared. "I didn't think you were coming in today." He said.

"Neither did I." Bellamy answered, and Finn gave him a strange look but Bellamy didn't want to take the time to elaborate.

"Hey! Good news, we're all set for the first set of people to go across." Finn said, his expression brightening. Bellamy smiled.

"That is good news. Can we do it today, since I'm here?" He questioned.

"Well, of course. It's not like we're doing anything but waiting for you." If it wasn't a stupid question Bellamy had asked, he might have elbowed Finn for his sass. Instead, Bellamy winced when he realized that indeed dumb questions did exist and he had just asked one.

"Good point."

"I'll get it together, tell the first couple people. I'm sure they'll want to say goodbye. Should I come find you in your house when it's ready?"

"Yeah, I'll just be in my office. Send Maya. She won't-,"

"Get blood everywhere." Finn finished with an eye roll.

They parted ways and Bellamy had just sat down at a very old and very expensive desk to start organizing some of the paperwork his workers had been collecting when Octavia screamed. He leapt up in an instant, stumbling from the office and rounding the corner. He found her standing in the room that was his bedroom, wide-eyed.

"Octavia!" He said, grabbing her shoulders and spinning her around. When he found no wounds on her, he looked around the room.

"What are you doing?" Octavia asked.

"What's wrong? You screamed! I thought you'd been killed." He said, slowly realizing that perhaps that wasn't what had had happened. Octavia frowned.

"What could kill me here?" She asked.

"Uhh?" Bellamy stepped aside from where he blocked the door to show her an artful display of axes and other fun weapons on the wall. Octavia waved a hand.

"Okay, there's those."

"Not just those." Bellamy let out a low groan and pressed his hands together and at his nose, "Octavia…this place was built on the concept of death. It was built to be an awful place for all those nasty mortals. It was built to be home to a god that was an outcast and a weirdo and spent all his time around the dead. Let's just assume safely that everything here could probably kill you." He growled.

"Well, could I die her?" Octavia wondered out loud, "Or would I just-,"

"What? Yes, of course you could die here, just like anywhere else! You'd just have a shorter trip down there." He pointed toward the direction of the waiting area. Seeing Octavia's dubious face, he sighed, "What made you scream?" He asked, although he knew he was probably going to regret it.

"This!" Octavia squealed, throwing open two large doors he hadn't really noticed until now. He'd never stayed the night here so he had no reason to really spend time in his bedchambers.

"A closet." He groaned with a disgusted shake of his head, "Girls…"

"Oh, come on!" Octavia said, sashaying into the largest closet he'd ever seen, "I think there's stuff in here even you'd like. Like don't tell me that you aren't going to nerd out over something like this?" She said, taking off one of the outfits from the hanger, and Bellamy nearly had a heart attack.

"That is a very delicate and likely century old piece of cloth! You can't just touch it!" He managed to gasp out, surging forward and grabbing the hanger away from her hands and gently setting the authentic Greek robes back where they'd been situated.

"Told you you'd be interested." She said. He stepped back and hated admitting she was right. Even if he didn't care much about what he wore day to day, like everywhere else in this palace, there was clothing from every decade, every significant event, hanging here. History, preserved in every form of these halls. World War II uniforms of both sides, Egyptian silk a pharaoh probably wore, an authentic flapper dress, grand ball-gowns, full chainmail outfits…Plus a plethora of just more 'everyday' sort of things that took up the other side of closet, which Octavia was more interested in. One side was historical, one side was practical. He couldn't meet his predecessor but Bellamy liked him immensely and his sense of organization.

In the middle of the room was a singular outfit put on a mannequin. Bellamy and Octavia migrated toward it at the same time.

They were both in awe. It was the most beautiful clothing Bellamy had ever seen, and Octavia felt the same. They both couldn't put that into words, but it was.

"I think…" Bellamy frowned, "The first Hades, the god, this was what he wore." Bellamy murmured, like it was his own memory but at the same time not. He just knew, not just a guess, but as a certainty. He stepped forward, reaching out toward it.

"Its not just going to 'poof' into dust when you touch it, is it?" Octavia gnawed on her lip.

"It was made by gods. It's meant to withstand…forever." He realized and his fingers touched the softest most luxurious fabric he'd ever felt. It was incredible. He ran his fingers all up it with a smile.

"Well, now you have to put it on." Octavia said with a wicked grin.

"What? No." Bellamy stepped back.

"C'moooon!" She whined, "This is your outfit."

It didn't take much convincing. It was calling to him…almost. The outfit itself was made of all black. It was a pair of slacks- which he didn't think would have been something they would have worn way back, but here they were- a simple top and a robe. The robe itself was a masterpiece. It had a fur lining up near where he put it on, the fuzziest thing he could imagine, and the entirety of it was impeccable and impossibly embroidered story of Hades in silver thread that shimmered like stars when he moved. The outfit itself was a strange experience to wear. It wasn't hot or cold. It wasn't lightweight or heavy. It wasn't itchy. It just…was…honestly, it felt like a second skin.

There were other items on the stand too; a belt filled with little pockets of things he didn't understand and didn't dare open all the way, a baldric and sword with a sheath that was perfectly balanced in his hands, and finally a grand staff. It was interwoven with blackened wood in a way that he didn't think could be done with wood (but clearly here it was) and carved all the way up it were skulls. When he touched it, it took his breath away.

"What?" Octavia demanded.

"I don't…know." He flexed his fingers around the staff's handle. He felt a rush of power. He knew it was magical, and he knew it was meant for him.

"I'm going to have to look up all this in the journal." He murmured, because he had no idea how to control this staff or what was in his pockets.

He stepped back, digging the staff into the carpet and Octavia gave a wide smile.

"You look…awesome." She said, "Honest to god…well, like a god."

Bellamy rolled his eyes, despite how good he felt in it, and turned to look at himself in the mirror. He tried to suppress his gasp of surprise. In these clothes…something about him, he didn't look himself. It was him, on some level, but it also wasn't. It was a better, perfect…dare he say it, _godly_ version of himself. He was an Adonis, the sculpted David by Michelangelo, the most powerful being to walk the earth. He was infinitely old and young and timeless all at once. He couldn't stop staring.

Behind him, Octavia giggled. "You know, if Clarke saw you in that, I think she'd pounce you and do you right here." She teased.

Bellamy spun, glaring. But, he hated to admit that he wanted that to happen. Not down here. He didn't intend to bring Clarke down here, if he could help it.

"Bellamy, we're ready." Maya knocked on the door, and then saw what he was wearing, "Oh. That looks…that looks good on you." She said after a long moment.

"What's ready?" Octavia asked.

"If it's okay with you, we're doing the first round of people to the other side today." Bellamy said, "Probably only five will be able to go, Greg's working on making another boat, and this is just a test run." He said.

"It's your world. Do what you need to do. I will be trying on every single one of these ah-mazing dresses." She said, already back to sifting through the yards of fabric on hangers.

"Should I…change?" he asked unsurely, looking down at his clothes sitting on a chair compared to what he was wearing now.

"It's up to you." Octavia looked up, "I guess it's sorta like your uniform, like your guard's uniform or whatever. For a job." She said. Bellamy winced. He would rather not remember his ill-fated days as a guard, or compare this job to them.

"I think you look the part in it." Maya supplied helpfully.

He gave a careful grin. "I suppose that settles it." He said, "Shall we?" He asked Maya. She nodded, and he took her arm and walked through the palace. Finn was waiting for him at the foot of the entrance. His eyebrows rose at Bellamy's look, but he didn't say anything on it.

"The first five in line are ready." He announced, "And our boat driver is too."

The boat driver- the new Charon- was a kind looking old lady that would be the sort to give you cookies or keep secrets for you from your parents. She was one of the oldest inhabitants, dying only a couple months after the nuclear fallout. She had been, in her first life, a 'bus driver', whatever that was, and she felt it was her duty to do this now.

"Good. We'll go down to the place now, and we'll see how this goes." Bellamy said, nodding to his two other judges standing next to Finn. He couldn't help but feel really excited and had a little bounce to his step as he motioned for Wells and the other judge to come forward.

They walked through the palace to the short-cut to the judging place, for obviously Hades couldn't be expected to spend all that time sitting on a boat with plebian dead souls. No one but he could go through there, unless they were the other judges, as Finn had tested when they'd found it and had been promptly shoved back onto his butt when he tried. He didn't know if there was some ceremony to make these two magical enough to go through, the best he'd come up with was writing 'RHADAMANTHUS' and 'AEACUS' on pieces of duct tape and now handed it to each of them, motioning for them to put it on.

"We'll see if this works." He said, stepping through first. Next came Wells, with zero problems. Then came his second judge- 'Aeacus' just as easily. He let out a sigh of relief.

"This is your uniforms for now. Obviously, don't let anyone else wear that." He said.

Wells scoffed. The second judge, a grounder girl who had been killed about twenty years back nodded solemnly. Her name was Cove and she was only slightly older than both Bellamy and Wells, but she'd already been married and a mother by the time she perished. Bellamy thought it was probably important to have a women, mother, and grounder perspective upon certain matters, because while obviously to him and Wells killing was a capital crime, killing in certain grounder communities were merely a rite of passage and celebrated, so how could they tell someone their entire religion was wrong?

Cove was much like Clarke in many ways, she was a natural leader and healer. She had many grounders down here looking up to her, even though some were older than her by decades. The way she commanded and managed to speak to people was inspiring to watch. From the moment she'd sat down with him, he'd known she would be the perfect choice for this.

They reached the small area where the souls would come through, a place with rough rock structures towering above them. There were three paths ways- one to Tartarus, one to the Fields, and one to Elysium. Tartarus was dark and gave Bellamy, the god of Death, the heebie-jeebies. The Fields looked plain enough, and that was all he could really find to explain it…plain. Elysium shone with a light as bright and as happy and it brought forth Bellamy's favorite memories.

There was a theory that all Hades went there, after they finished their self-decided terms. A gift in thanks for their service. That all gods and goddesses ended up there. Of course, no one had come back to tell the tale and if they did they were reincarnated, and thusly it was only a theory.

"You ready?" Bellamy asked, spinning to Cove and Wells. He could see the boat approaching. They both nodded.

The first person off the boat, the first man to perish after the old Hades shot himself in the head (Bellamy got glimpses of his other lives sometimes, this one had been vivid) was a thirty-something year-old former lawyer named Christian. As he approached, Bellamy wondered how this worked. There was little about it in the Hades Manual, and after a second, it became apparent why.

As soon as Christian stepped onto a white stone in front of them, it was like he was paused and his whole life was thrown out in front of them. It was like they were watching a screen of his life, but a thousand screens at once. Bellamy found it less confusing to focus on all of them at once than he thought it would be. His brain instinctively knew what to scan for, and it seemed that he could will certain tapes to play forward or back again. They were his biggest moments in his life- good or bad. There was a clip of him donating a huge sack of gifts to a women's abuse shelter, yet there was a clip of him also cheating on his BAR entrance exam.

Beside him, Cove and Wells seemed to know what to do too. They were picking out memories like they were apples, weighing them against each other. He wondered if their duct-tape sticker uniforms were telling them what to do or if maybe they were just always meant for this job, in a fated sort of way.

Bellamy began to do that too. He used his gut for a lot of things. Obviously, throwing a wrapper out of a car window was not as heinous a crime as others and the fact that he often waived fees for underprivileged people wasn't brought down by a couple hamburger wrappers on the side of the road.

It wasn't as exhausting as Bellamy thought it was either. It didn't take long for Bellamy to reach his consensus that although he wasn't a perfect person, he was pretty okay. And okay people went to the Fields. He was almost at Elysium but there were moments where Bellamy could see his motivations were more selfish than caring and that didn't sit well with him. Only the best of the best went to Elysium.

He turned, seeing that Cove and Wells were similarly finished rating.

"Fields," Cove said after a quiet moment and Wells nodded in agreement. If they had disagreed, Bellamy would have been the deciding factor. He wondered what happened if all three of them decided on different places? He doubted that came up often enough to be concerned about it.

The screen vanished, Christopher moved again, and the middle path lit up for him. He followed without a question.

"One done, thousands more to go." Wells said with a dry tone. Bellamy sighed. The old Hades, his most recent predecessor, had this down to an art. He figured a lot of judging people was practice and after doing it for decades he's almost just know when he looked at someone. But his predecessor also had so much more technology, so much more figured out in the 21st centaury age he lived in that was now just…gone. On one hand, he had much more to deal with. Someone, usually two people, died every second in his reign. Here, they had at least one person every hour appearing. It was a big difference, but that were still- at the minimum- 24 new people onto the list everyday.

But this didn't bother Bellamy, instead, it gave him hope.

People appeared from all over the globe; Egypt, Russia, Thailand…everywhere, or what was left of places. He tried to get as much information about the world at large as he could. It was nice to know that they weren't alone here, that other societies made it out too and were even thriving in some places. Ethiopia, of all places, seemed to be one of the better off places. He wished he could tell someone his discoveries- besides Octavia- but it would cause more trouble than it was worth.

Still, they weren't alone in this world and that was something.

The other three passed through taking about the same amount of time as Christopher. They all led simple fair lives and went to the Fields. None of them had put them in a moral quandary or done anything extraordinary with their lives. He had a feeling most would be like this.

Even though he didn't think he could stay any longer, and he knew that he'd only started the process in the smallest way, as Bellamy left with his sister he couldn't help but feel that for the first time in a very long time he'd done something right and good. That had to count for something, didn't it?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE SEASON 4 TRAILER GAVE ME SO MANY BELLARKE FEELS I JUST HAD TO UPDATE THIS. HAVE YOU SEEN IT? GOD ALL MY BABIES. Especially my trash baby Murphy :3
> 
> So yep, I killed off Wick. He's an awful person IRL and I'm glad he's off the show and I couldn't rightly have him on here. I don't even feel bad about it.
> 
> In other news, awhile back I made a PE Moodboard/Aesthetics board. That's what's on the beginning of the chapter here
> 
> Also, because I'm literally obsessed with Hades and Persephone for my college creative writing course I wrote a 30 pg short story about the idea that if there myth was reversed and there were 6 months out of the year where no one died. I'm pretty proud of it and if anyone is interested in seeing my original work I'll post it somewhere and let you guys know for the next chapter.
> 
> Speaking of chapters; (besides Bellarke getting together) do y'all have any little requests of people or moment's you'd like to see? I have some free space in my outline and I thought I might like to see what you all are interested in happening, with any character or any thing.
> 
> Hope you enjoy this!

**Author's Note:**

> So, if you can already (or cannot tell) this story is not only a love story between our favorite leaders, but also a story of forgiveness and dealing with all the awful things they've both done. I mean, yeah, there's a ton of blood on their hands. Almost equal. Because of it, we are going to see some familiar but dead faces come back! Yay! (or not yay, depending of you disliked people with a burning passion like my hatred for Dr. Tsing)
> 
> Also the title of this 'Prota Exsileosi' is a rough translation from the Greek letters to english alphabet and it means (I think XD) First Atonement, as in they are starting a new on earth and this is the first big forgiveness that this new group of humans go through.


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